


Faded Memory

by NeglectedGnome



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, God Mode Magic, Introspection, Love Triangles, Near Death Experiences, Resurrection, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:53:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 61
Words: 109,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26800957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeglectedGnome/pseuds/NeglectedGnome
Summary: When Evelyn Trevelyan fell into the Fade she was not expecting to rescue the Hero of Ferelden, who was known to have sacrificed herself ten years prior to end the Fifth Blight.Elissa Cousland awakes in a world now foreign to her. Without her memories and wearing the body of a dead but very recognizable hero she strives to find a place for herself. And save the world. Again.She finds stability in the unshakable Cullen, the first person she remembers from her past. Even Leliana is a stranger to her. But little do the pair know Elissa's first great love is still alive and well ruling in Denerim, eager to be reunited with his resurrected Hero once again...
Relationships: Alistair/Female Cousland (Dragon Age), Alistair/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Cullen Rutherford/Female Warden, Female Cousland/Cullen Rutherford
Comments: 120
Kudos: 125





	1. Nothingness

There was no sound. It was a silence so profound one would expect to hear the beating of their own heart to punctuate the passing of one moment to the next, except she had no heart to beat or ears to hear it. The eyes she didn't have would have just seen darkness, except that wouldn't offer this void the proper esteem. It wasn't just the absence of light that left her lost and adrift... it was the absence of _everything._ Nothingness surrounded her. It consumed her. She would have screamed if she had a voice. If she had a mind it would have broken long ago. Or maybe she did and it had. As it was she existed in a place where nothing could exist. Some small semblance of self, scattered and broken. An anomaly.

Until the ripple.

In a place where nothingness reigns anything emerging into existence sends shockwaves in its wake. It started small, no more than a rain drop falling a thousand miles away but it grew steadily. Her awareness bloomed, drifting fragments of herself slowly convalescing into something more. Something almost whole. Something that was almost _real_ again. The drops came faster now, becoming a current and surging towards her with intent. She could almost taste it now, this new consciousness that was not her own. It invaded her nothingness, forcing pieces of herself back into place as she turned her attention towards this intruder.

The ripple was a maelstrom now, ripping through the nothingness. She braced her newly reforming self against the coming tide, neither afraid nor defensive but... curious. Acknowledging the feeling felt like shrugging on an old coat: familiar, if a little stiff from disuse and neglect. As the storm broke around her the nothingness fell away and she once more _was_.

All at once she was aware. Sulphur filled her nose, making it curl in aversion. She could feel cool wet stone beneath her body as she laid atop it, pressing into her at awkward angles. As she took in a long, shuddering breath she heard the air passing into her lungs as it burned slightly. The unexpected sensation left her coughing, using her palms to push her body away from the wet stone to give her space to heave. She opened watery eyes to an unfamiliar world.

The horizon was a sickly green as far as her eyes could see and great jagged rocks lay cast about the landscape as if by a careless giant. Embers floated up away from the ground from unseen fires and a lazy mist weaved it's way through everything, obscuring her vision. It filled her with dread. She pulled herself up to a crouch and gazed out at the drab scenery and knew she had no knowledge of this place, how she had come to it or how to leave it. With a little start she realized she didn't even know who _she_ was. She cast about uneasily and noticed another form crumpled on the stone behind her.

It was a woman, her hair splayed out around her head like a halo. Her hand buzzed and sparked with a dull green glow. A tentative look confirmed she was still alive and seemingly uninjured, although the hand made her wary. Her close presence jarred the stranger back to consciousness and she woke gasping, unfocused eyes falling on the figure crouched above her.

"Maker's Breath. It's you. It really is _you_ ," the stranger rasped, their voice taking on a cadence of reverence. Their eyes were wide with awe.

She stared down at the stranger, expressionless. They seemed to recognize her, which made her all the more curious as to this stranger's identity. She let air into her lungs, now accustomed to the burn, and words fell from her mouth for the first time in she didn't know how long.

"And who are you?"

They scrambled upright, dusting off their clothing as they stood, eyes never leaving her face. This stranger seemed oddly familiar. "Evelyn Trevelyan," she smiled and offered a hand.

She eyed the hand warily. This Evelyn seemed friendly enough but this place left the hairs on the back of her neck standing. She reached out hesitantly to take the hand and suddenly recognition crashed over her like a wave breaking in a storm.

"You," she whispered as her eyes narrowed, "You pulled me out." Evelyn nodded, eyes growing momentarily distant as she suppressed a shudder. "Couldn't tell you how. I was... panicked." She closed their eyes tightly for a breath before turning back to her. "And then _you_ were there. A little tug and then you were here." She gestured around them and shrugged.

"And who..." she paused as the awkwardness of her question dawned on her, "am I?"

Evelyn knit her brows together in confusion, somehow staring even harder now. "You're the Hero of Ferelden. The Grey Warden. Elissa Cousland."

Many of the words meant little to her. Ferelden was known to her, though she couldn't say how. She certainly didn't remember ever doing something heroic there. _Grey Warden_ almost seemed familiar, but when she thought about it further the familiarity faded and the words were once again empty. Elissa Cousland though, that struck a cord. The name draped itself across her like a heavy blanket, bringing warmth to her bones and certainty to her mind. Other titles notwithstanding, she _was_ Elissa Cousland, whomever that may be.

Evelyn was still staring. Elissa brought her eyes up to meet her gaze and decided against discussing her missing memory with this stranger and instead turned the conversation away from herself. "What's wrong?"

Evelyn frowned at the question asked of her.

"You said you were panicked," Elissa continued, prompting.

Evelyn nodded slowly and her eyes grew distant as if trying to remember. "I... I don't know," she confessed with a new note of alarm in her voice. "I can't remember. I just, I just remember knowing you could help." Evelyn turned back to her rescued companion who had adopted a look of bemusement.

" _I_ could help?"

"You've saved the world before." The look of awe was back in the strangers eyes, mixed with something else. Something a lot like hope.

She frowned at that. Her own missing knowledge of who she was bothered her enough as is was and she found it so disconcerting that this stranger knew things about her she didn't even know herself. Although, saving the world was a bit of a stretch even she found difficult to believe. They were probably mistaken. They _must_ be mistaken. And yet some deep part of her stirred... she knew next to nothing about herself but apparently she could not refuse a request for help. Interesting.

The stranger's hand flashed down at her side and they both looked towards it.

"What's _that_?" Elissa asked, squinting against the light it threw off.

"I don't know," Evelyn answered. She held her hand up to her face and scrutinized her palm, gently prodding it with her opposite thumb. "I didn't have it before."

A noise behind them drew their attention away, suddenly alert and wary. Another noise, closer now, followed by a skittering as something large moved behind one of the jagged rocks in the distance. She reached to her back for her blade but found it bare and suddenly she knew more truths about herself; she was not unfamiliar with danger and, more importantly, she was confident in her ability to defend herself from it. While her lack of weapon wasn't even something she noticed or cared about earlier, now she felt suddenly naked and vulnerable. She eyed the stranger who appeared far more rattled, staring into the swirling mists around them with eyes wide in growing fear.

Her eyes found an incline just beyond the stranger. From the top of those steps they might be able to see better what's going on around them. She grabbed Evelyn's hand and they began to run, quickly covering the uneven ground between them and the steps.

"Will you help?" Evelyn asked, breathlessly as they climbed. Her question was met with a sideways glance from her companion and a sigh.

The noises behind them were growing louder, their backward glances now catching glimpses of multiple shadows closing the distance quickly on many legs. The creatures filled Elissa with a steadily increasing sense of dread.

"I don't even know who I am," she replied carefully as she eyed Evelyn, who seemed unfazed by the admission.

Suddenly a blinding light flashed above them at the pinnacle of the steps. The creatures below them screetched with a new fury closing the distance between them with even more speed. Evelyn grabbed Elissa by the shoulders and looked into her eyes. Elissa tried to move towards the light above them but Evelyn held her fast.

"Will you _help_?" Evelyn asked intensely, out of breath from their climb.

Elissa nodded. She _would_ help, but whether that help would be of use to anyone was another matter entirely. She wasn't even sure she could help them escape these creatures pursuing them. Evelyn released her grasp and Elissa pushed her towards the light. They were almost there.

As they reached the top several things happened all at once.

First, it became clear the light being cast from the height of the steps was shaped like a woman. All at once Elissa felt certain this being meant her no harm, though the light hurt Elissa's eyes and left after images everywhere she looked next. The woman was reaching towards Elissa, who reached the top first, dragging a stumbling Evelyn in her wake.

Secondly, _something_ else had joined them at the pinnacle. If the woman of light radiated peace and serenity this presence was her counter. The dread that had been building in her burst forth in a wave of terror as this new threat emerged. Elissa surged forward, desperation fueling her drive to get away from _it_.

Thirdly, Evelyn stumbled and fell.

Elissa lost her grip on her companion and forced herself to stop and turn, nearly slipping on the slick stones herself. The great beast loomed above them, its attention was focused on the pair though Elissa could see no eyes. Its spindly legs supported a bulk that blocked out much of the sky. Evelyn scrambled to her feet as she grabbed Elissa's hand and the pair stood in defiance of this monster.

"Demon," hissed Evelyn.

In a moment it lunged forward just as the lady of light flashed brightly. Elissa held on to Evelyn and turned back to the source of the light behind her. She could just make out an arm thrust towards her, fingertips splayed out. Elissa reached with her free hand and was surprised to feel that the hand was more tangible than she expected. That same moment she felt Evelyn wrenched from her grip. She turned to see her companion's face frozen in shock and fear. Elissa moved with lightning fast reflexes and managed to just catch the front of her robes in her fingertips as her world went white and then black.


	2. Prisoner

Elissa awoke with her cheek pressed against cold stone and smoke stinging her eyes as she cautiously opened them. Her body ached from laying on cold, hard ground for an extended period and she could feel heavy metal hanging from her wrists. A small tug jostled the chain attached to them confirming her suspicion: She was apparently a prisoner. This didn't really bother her since it was still an improvement from her last prison and part of her welcomed the cold and the aches if only because it meant she wasn't _nothing_. Her body responded stiffly as she shifted off the ground and up onto her knees. The manacles binding her hands were attached to the ground before her with a short chain which offered little slack. It wouldn't allow her to stand upright and so she took in her surroundings from this limited vantage.

It was dark inside her cage. Iron bars lined the walls, and the torches mounted upon them give off little light but enough smoke to cause the stinging in her eyes. Though there were no windows she could see a pallid, sickly light shining in between the wooden slats of the walls and assumed it to be day beyond the confines of her prison.

She was not alone. A number of guards stood off against the caged walls of her little cell, although they seemed less interested in guarding her as they did gawking at her. They whispered quietly among themselves and Elissa resisted the urge to roll her eyes. They were young, barely old enough to hold the swords they carried. They were undisciplined, milling about chatting instead of performing their duty. She could be very dangerous for all they knew. She was dangerous, in fact. Though she was no threat to them, not yet. Their weapons, though simple in design, seemed sturdy enough. She questioned whether or not these young men would have the skill the wield them effectively. Her hand flexed with an urge to have a blade gripped within it, and then it offered up an entirely new and rather unpleasant sensation.

Elissa turned her hand towards her face, very unsettled to now behold the glowing green mark she had seen in Evelyn's palm now embedded in her own. She turned back to her onlookers but held her tongue. No use asking them, they wouldn't know anything. She would wait, someone would be in to see her before long.

The sunlight outside had faded a few shades as dusk began to approach before she met her captors. The two women who entered her cell carried themselves with authority and Elissa noted that her guards quickly stood at attention in their presence. One guard spoke quietly to the more heavily armoured of the two, who made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a growl and dismissed the guards with a wave. Her dark hair was cut short and she carried a long blade on her hip which Elissa had no doubt this warrior could wield effectively; she liked her immediately, despite her position. 

The second woman was considerably more difficult to read. Lightly armoured but her face was hidden beneath a hood. She prowled in the shadows of the room, not unlike a predator stalking its prey. Elissa turned her face towards this one and willed her eyes to see in the dim light but the first woman began to speak. 

"Who, or _what_ ," she practically spat the second word, "are you?" She spoke from somewhere behind her and Elissa could hear her armoured boots pacing back and forth against the stone, which paused when she did not immediately respond. 

"I'm..." Elissa really wasn't sure how to reply, "I don't know how to answer that." Her mark flared again and she flexed the hand into a fist. It didn't exactly hurt, but the sensation was uncomfortable and growing worse. 

The second woman stepped into the torchlight, revealing a petite face framed with short red hair. "What is your name?" she asked softly, though her eyes were hard and piercing. Her voice was not what Elissa had expected. Her accent was soothing though the tone betrayed something akin to iron: this woman was accustomed to her questions being answered. 

"She said I was..." she paused, thinking of Evelyn's face being pulled away in fear and grimaced, "Elissa. She said I was Elissa Cousland." There was a sharp intake of breath behind her and the woman in front of her exchanged a quick look with her companion before narrowing her eyes back at Elissa. "Who said that?"

"Evelyn," she whispered before suddenly turning quickly to look at the cells around her, trying to penetrate their shadowed depths with her eyes. "Did you find her?"

The woman shook her head slowly before adding, "You fell out of the Fade alone."

The Fade. Of course. She _knew_ the Fade, and yet hadn't recognized it while she was in it. Not until she heard the name spoken aloud. Strange. And tremendously unhelpful. 

"Who is Evelyn?" prompted the voice behind her, impatient with the pause.

"She said her name was Evelyn Trevelyan," Elissa said quietly, flexing her fist against the mark in her palm. Her mark. "She..." her voice wavered slightly and she swallowed hard, "she saved me."

"Saved you from what?" The red haired woman spoke again, softly but pressing Elissa to respond. 

"From Nothing." Elissa whispered, staring hard past the woman at the dying light shining through the slats in the wall as if the light could shield her from the truth that such a lack of existance even existed at all. 

"Did she cause the explosion at the conclave?" The dark haired woman behind her spoke and something flashed across the second woman's face. Irritation? Elissa turned to face the one who asked the question. 

"Explosion at the _what_?"

The armoured woman just stared at her incredulously. 

"Elissa," the red haired woman spoke softly still, drawing Elissa back to face her, though her eyes now matched the softness of her voice, "Do you know who I am?"

Elissa stared at her. She felt a faint sense of familiarity and even thought she caught a whiff of Chantry insense, but both faded quickly. So she shook her head and noticed the sadness that flashed across the woman's face before she composed it again. She felt an urge to sooth this woman, this stranger, and so without thinking admitted the one truth she had planned to keep to herself, "To be fair I'm not even sure who I am."

"Why are you here?" The red haired woman's face was composed again but her voice was barely a whisper. 

Elissa smiled, finally something she knew how to answer. 

"To help."

"Cassandra," the woman spoke to her companion without looking away from Elissa. "Release her. We are taking her to the Breach."


	3. Newfound Talent

As she stepped out into the light Elissa's eyes were drawn upwards. Above the peaks of the nearby snow-covered mountains a great stretch of the sky had been ripped open and it appeared as though bits of another world were falling out. Storm clouds collected around the edge of the rift and thunderous sounds pulsed from within it, echoing against the ring of mountains surrounding this little camp. Each pulse also sent shocks through her palm and up her arm, leaving an unpleasant tingling feeling in their wake.

People had begun to turn their attention towards her though Cassandra ignored them. "You told Leliana you wanted to help," she stated before gazing up at the sky herself, "Your mark reacts to the rift. Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads, and it's growing by the hour. It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn't much time."

Elissa nodded, she had felt as much. Cassandra turned on her heel and moved towards the main thoroughfare of the camp and made her way to the road that led up the mountain. People parted before her and stopped to stare at Elissa. They walked through silence and heard whispers following behind them.

"Is that her?"

"It's the Herald."

"But she died."

"It's the Hero, the Maker sent her back to save us."

Elissa tried to ignore them, and kept her eyes glued to the back of Cassandra's armour. It appeared everyone was in on the secret except her. They all seemed so certain about her, and it was getting harder to believe they were _all_ mistaken. So she watched the green sky reflecting off the back of Cassandra's breastplate until the whispers subsided and they were once again alone.

The incline was steep, though she found her muscles didn't resist the exertion and she was able to keep pace with Cassandra easily. The mark throbbed in her palm as they neared the Breach in the sky and she flexed her fist until her nails dug into the skin. As they approached a stone bridge spanning a frozen river beneath them she felt a new sensation stirring within her. It felt almost... familiar. She stepped onto the bridge warily causing Cassandra to pause.

"What's wrong," she asked, rather bluntly. She was in a hurry.

Elissa scanned her surroundings suspiciously. "I'm not sure," she didn't have the right words. "Something feels different." She began forward again, Cassandra at her side with her weapon drawn and ready.

Suddenly the Breach thundered and her mark flared as something wreathed in green flames came shooting out of the great rift towards them. Cassandra moved to dodge out of the way but the faintly familiar sensation bloomed within Elissa and all at once she felt a new arsenal of skills primed in her fingertips. She raised one hand towards the flaming mass hurtling towards them and just before it crashed into the bridge it turned into ash and smoke, harmlessly pelting the stone before dissipating in the wind. Cassandra just stared at her in shock.

"I guess I was a mage," Elissa murmured, inspecting her fingers although they betrayed no hint of the destructive power hidden within them.

"No," came a reply from her side. "You were not."

Elissa turned to see a very wary Cassandra regarding her cautiously. "The Hero of Ferelden possessed no magical abilities."

Elissa turned towards a damaged portion of the bridge and with a small gesture the fallen stone lifted itself back into place. It sealed itself seamlessly together with the surrounding stone until even a gifted Dwarven craftsmen wouldn't have been able to tell it was ever broken. "It appears I do now."

"This is most troubling," Cassandra replied, clearly unsettled. The small degree of trust Elissa had earned seemed to have burned away with the Breach's projectile. Another crash sounded from the great rift and Cassandra glanced over Elissa's shoulder before turning her attention back to the newly discovered apostate.

"I still want to help." Her mark flared at her side, sending pain up her arm but she held Cassandra's gaze. After a moment the woman nodded briskly. "Fine," she said quickly, "Let's move."

Though she showed no outward sign of malcontent Cassandra no longer led the way, but instead issued directions from Elissa's flank. Understandably she did not want to turn her back on a mage, especially one untested.

They met little resistance along their path and reached the outskirts of the Temple of Sacred Ashes before long, the sounds of battle echoing down the mountainside as they ascended a stone stairway. "We are getting close to the rift, you can hear the fighting," Cassandra observed.

"Who's fighting?" Elissa asked but Cassandra waved the question off, picking up the pace as they cleared the last of the steps. "You'll see soon enough. We must help them."

As they rounded the broken wall of a structure long since crumbled Elissa slid to a halt. Before her an elf and dwarf were fighting a losing battle against monsters straight out of a nightmare. Their limbs were too long and reached out from their misshapen bodies at unnatural angles making their movements grotesque but no less lethal. Eerie shrieks sounded from gaping holes beneath their glowing eyes that sent shivers down her spine. Unbidden Evelyn's final word came to her mind: _Demon_

Above them all a smaller version of the great rift in the sky floated in the air. While Elissa took in the scene before her Cassandra lept down into the fray without hesitation. Once again she lamented her lack of weapon. She looked around for something, _anything_ to use just as the ground at her feet began to bubble and churn. Before she could even react one of the demons leapt from beneath her, knocking her down. Then it was upon her. She raised a hand to try to defend herself and suddenly red hot embers erupted across the creature's flesh, spreading in lines across its body and leaving charred black ash in its wake which was carried off in the breeze. In the span of a moment the demon was no more than dust, drifting back towards the rift floating above them. Elissa gasped at the space where the demon had been and looked at her hand.

_Maker's Breath, did I do that?_

She hauled herself back up and moved to the ledge overlooking the battle below. Cassandra was hacking her way through the mess of demons but the group was still hopelessly outnumbered. Elissa looked back towards her hand, feeling that same familiar presence flooding beneath her skin. Tentatively she lifted her hand and focused on the demons. In a moment each had red embers burning through them as their bodies turned to blackened ash before also drifting lazily back into the rift. In the silence that followed Cassandra turned to face her and the other two followed her gaze. Elissa once again stared at her hand.

The elf picked his way across the rubble towards her with sure-footed precision. "Quickly," he said as he reached her and took hold of her forearm, "Before more come through!" He thrust her arm towards the rift and magic poured from her palm. She could feel the tear in the veil and reflexively clenched her fist and with a crack the rift sealed itself closed.

She turned to the elf as he released her hand. "What was _that_?" she asked incredulously, feeling the power fade from her palm, leaving a tingling sensation behind.

"Your Mark," he gestured to it, "Whatever magic created the Breach in the sky left also that upon your hand. I had some time to study it and theorized that it may be able to close the rifts created in the Breach's wake; it seems I was correct."

She narrowed her eyes at him, "You _had some time to study it_?"

Cassandra had rejoined them now, "He means he watched you while you slept and kept the thing from killing you after you fell out of the Fade." She cleaned her blade off in some nearby snow.

The dwarf let out a low whistle as he slung a dangerous looking contraption over his shoulder. He looked from the spot the rift was just a moment ago, to the flakes of charred demon still floating away in the breeze before turning back to her. "You're just full of neat little tricks."

She flexed her hand at her side but returned the dwarf's easy smile, "So it seems."

"Varric Tethras," the dwarf continued, introducing himself. "Rogue. Storyteller. And, occasionally, unwelcome tagalong." At this he winked at Cassandra, who scowled at him.

"I'm Solas, if there are to be introductions," the tall elf spoke from her side, nodding to her politely.

She continued the introductions with the only fact she felt certain she knew about herself, "Elissa Cousland."

Varric stopped smiling. Now he just stared in shock, his jaw hanging slightly agape. "Andraste's tits you are." He turned to Cassandra, who just shrugged.

"She appears to be who she says she is, even Leliana is inclined to believe her." She paused, eyeing her critically, "There have however been some discrepancies." She was of course referring to Elissa's apparently newly acquired magical talent. Elissa felt a growing discomfort under the woman's harsh gaze.

Solas eyed her quizzically, "I didn't know the Hero was a mage."

"She wasn't," was Cassandra's flat reply. She had finished cleaning her blade and was now drying the snow from it hastily.

"Well shit," the dwarf said, a little awestruck. "You'll have to tell me about killing the archdemon sometime, that must be an incredible story."

Elissa frowned. "Killing the _what_?"

Cassandra answered Varric's question before he could ask it, sheathing her blade back on her hip. "She has lost all memory of her past life, save for her name."

All eyes now turned back to her and Elissa's discomfort grew exponentially. Fortunately, in that moment the Breach thundered above them and her mark flared. Cassandra turned on her heel and continued towards the Temple shouting over her shoulder.

"We can discuss this later. Let's move."


	4. The Commander

Cullen Rutherford really, _really_ did not like demons. Not that he knew of any sane person that was particularly fond of them, but with his history just the thought of them sent chills down his spine. As a survivor of the events at Kinloch Hold during the Fifth Blight he had seen first hand the damage and destruction demons could unleash given the freedom to do so. Those memories still haunted his dreams, even ten years later. So when the sky had broken open and those monsters began raining down across the countryside Cullen was decidedly _not_ in favour of this turn of events and greatly motivated to bring them to an end.

So he had joined the Inquisition at the behest of a Seeker named Cassandra, a somewhat severe woman whose judgement he held in a very high regard. Hers was also the name he cursed when he found himself on a fridged mountainside fighting droves of demons, one after another, flooding out of a nearby rift that had opened sometime after the Breach split the sky. As he cut down another of the creatures he decided that perhaps it would have been better to die at the hands of the demons in the Circle Tower simply because at least it had been _warm_ there and he once again cursed the Seeker.

Then she was there, panting slightly from making the ascent up the mountain's steep incline. His position at the entrance to the ruins that used to be the Temple of Sacred Ashes was quite the trek from the camp down below. Without wasting a moment to catch her breath the Seeker threw herself right into the thick of the battle that raged around the rift. Three others had arrived with her. The tall elf and burly dwarf he was familiar with, but the woman with them he couldn't recognize.

 _Maker's Breath_.

He knew her, but it was impossible. She hadn't aged a day and, more importantly, she was supposed to be _dead_. In a flash he had left the cold mountainside entirely and he was back in the Circle. The demons slowly teasing away his sanity by tempting him with rescue and freedom only to wrench it away. Slaughtering his fellow templars one by one. He heard their screams. He had heard it all.

Until _she_ had arrived. 

And now she was here. For one frightening moment he questioned the authenticity of the world around him. Was this real? How could the Hero of Ferelden be here and this actually be _real_? He then drove the panic aside because he knew he understood better than most the difference between the Fade-touched visions of demons and reality. This was certainly the latter. But how was _she_ here?

The dwarf had begun picking off demons with his augmented crossbow while the elf quietly conversed with her. She seemed wary about something, though the elf appeared encouraging. Hesitantly she raised her hands towards the battle on the steps of the ruined temple. Cullen followed her gaze, frowning. What was she do-

The demons let out a short, unified scream as they were scorched through with unseen fire, almost instantly charred into ash that broke apart as pieces floated towards the rift. Silence fell across the area as soilders exchanged looks with one another, trying to determine what had just happened. Doubt flooded him: the woman he had met was never a mage. _He would have known_.

Cullen turned back to her, confused. She had dropped one of her hands and now thrust one towards the rift. A soft green glow in her palm that he hadn't noticed before unleashed a torrent of magic towards the rift and the soldiers began to hastily move away, except for Cassandra. The Seeker just watched the rift with curiosity. A moment later the woman clenched her fist and with a deafening _crack_ the rift was gone.

The soliders began to cheer. Clearly mages weren't to be trusted, but a mage who could close a Fade rift, well that was a different matter entirely. Cullen caught the Seeker's eye and she made her way through the crowd towards him.

"Cassandra," he said quickly, for the moment ignoring any other information she may have to deliver to him and turning his gaze towards the woman, "Is that who I think it is?" Cassandra followed his gaze, frowning until realization dawned on her. 

"That's right," she said, half to herself. "You would have met her at Kinloch Hold."

"That can't be her," he breathed. 

Cassandra turned back to him, her gaze steady and serious. "She is the woman who fell out of the Fade. The one people have begun calling _The Herald of Andraste_. She also appears to be the fallen Hero of Ferelden, Elissa Cousland, though she seems to have no memory of her past life beyond her own name." Cassandra looked back at the woman they discussed, "She also has acquired magical abilities the former Hero never possessed."

Cullen frowned at that, "Demons can't possess the dead. And she was certainly dead."

"I do not believe she is possessed," the Seeker spoke softly, wary of the soliders within earshot even with their distracted celebrations. "Leliana has met her, Cullen. She thinks it may really be her." Cullen let out a deep breath. He would see for himself.

He made his way through the crowd, Cassandra walking at his side. The celebrating was dying down now as men returned to the relative warmth of their tents, the danger finally past for the moment. 

As he approached the familiar woman Cassandra began to introduce him. She turned from her quiet conversation with the elf and looked to the Seeker before turning her gaze wholly on him.

"Elissa, this is Commander-"

"Cullen?" Her voice sounded the same, his mind dredging up long forgotten memories of it. Memories best left forgotten. He focused on her. Up close he had a hard time trying to convince himself this wasn't the Warden who had rescued him from the Circle. He knew the years had aged his face but she looked the exact same as she had then. Well, happier perhaps. She was smiling at him now, excitement evident on her features. "Cullen. The Templar. It is you isn't it?"

He nodded dumbly, words failing him as she beamed at him. "Yes. Well, sort of. I'm not a Templar any-" 

The rest of his words were lost as she leapt towards him gleefully and threw her arms over his shoulders pulling his head and chest down as she hugged him tightly. He stood frozen, hunched forwards while she stood up on her toes to hold him. He felt a blush threatening to take hold of his face and quickly stepped away from the hug. She released him, but kept her hands on his arms. 

"I remember you," she grinned. 

"I remember you too," he replied, unsure what else to say. He could still feel the blush, hopefully the others would just think it was the cold air.

"No, you don't understand," she was speaking very quickly now, "I can't remember anything. Anyone. But I can remember _you_."

"Really?" He was somewhat flattered, though still confused. He was afraid to ask his next question, but he needed to know. _Was this really her?_ "What do you remember?" His voice was a whisper. 

Her smile drooped into a frown. "It's not very pleasant," she warned.

"I know." He kept his eyes trained on hers, knowing if he dared close them what awaited him.

"In the Circle Tower, the blood mages had trapped you with the other Templars. They had," she eyed him carefully, "killed all of them, except you." She looked at him sympathetically but he let her continue. "You thought I was a hallucination, sent by _them_ ," she whispered, so that only he could hear. She didn't finish the memory but he had heard enough.

Maker, it _was_ her.

He let out the breath he had been holding. She offered him a small apologetic smile and continued to speak in the soft whisper, "I'm sorry that happened to you."

Cassandra spoke before Cullen had a chance, interrupting their little reunion. 

"The Breach awaits."


	5. The Breach

The ruined temple loomed before them with massive pillars of stone emerging outwards from the ground around a central point: the heart of the explosion that had destroyed the conclave. Chunks of stone and even whole sections of wall and roof were cast about the area like a child's discarded toys. They made their way silently through the rubble and flaming debris, trying not to look at the charred human remains left behind from the blast. Above them the Breach was frighteningly magnificent, dominating the sky. From a distance only the louder thunders from it could be heard, but from here every whisper floated to their ears, unsettling and eerie.

Elissa led the way, growing confident in her ability to eradicate any demons that made the unlucky choice to cross her path. The magic in her mark thrummed within her palm as they neared the Breach. The magic coursing through the rest of her body was coiled and ready, like tinder waiting for a spark.

Behind her marched Solas and Cullen, who eyed each other warily. She wondered if the elf knew about Cullen's past as a Templar. The staff Solas carried easily identified him as a mage, and she knew Cullen's feeling towards mages after the events at the Fereldan Circle. Absently she wondered if those feelings now included her. He had certainly seen her magic in action and she had been so excited to _remember_ something she hadn't really paid attention to his reaction. It would be a damn shame to remember someone only to have them want nothing to do with her. She kicked a rock that was in her path, feeling suddenly unsure about her newfound old friend.

The descent into the heart of the temple from there took on a far more sinister feel. Veins of glowing rock were etched into the great stone pillars that sprouted from the ground, casting an unnatural green light on everything around them. It reminded her of the Fade; everything there had been bathed in the same green hues. As the party walked through the remains of a hallway that somehow survived the blast approaching footsteps drew her attention back to the present and Elissa turned to face Leliana as she arrived with a group of scouts.

"You're here," Leliana sounded relieved as she spoke, "Thank the Maker."

"Leliana, have your men take up positions around the temple," Cassandra ordered, walking up from the rear of their little procession. Leliana nodded and turned back to her scouts, though she exchanged a brief word with the commander, both of them at one point turning to look at her in unison. She turned her attention away towards the sight in front of them.

The explosion had ripped away much of the bowels beneath the temple, leaving behind a wide gaping hole the size of a city marketplace. Directly in the middle floated a large rift, much bigger than the ones she had seen this far, but still tiny compared to the Breach that dominated the sky above them.

Cassandra walked up to her as Elissa eyed the Breach warily. "I'm not sure I can reach that," she said, "Unless I've also gained the ability of flight."

Solas spoke from her side, making her jump a little as she hadn't heard his approach. "No. This rift was the first and it is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach."

She turned to find Cullen standing behind her and she nearly bumped into him. He turned his gaze from the rift to her and gave a little encouraging smile. "You've handled worse," he said quietly, "Let's go."

They picked their way down through the rubble, suspiciously eyeing a glowing red rock that emerged from the ground along the way. Varric rushed forward and pulled her back from inspecting it closer. "That's red lyrium. Keep your distance."

" _Red_ lyrium?" she questioned. This was news to her. Cullen nodded slowly and explained further, "It was first discovered a few years back. It poisons the mind of those who touch it. Varric is right: Keep your distance. That we should find it here is unsettling indeed."

She gave the glowing stone a wide berth and continued down the slope, avoiding the many other patches they encountered along the way. Varric was uttering a slew of curses under his breath at the sight of it.

Once they reached the bottom she turned her gaze up to the rift above them, steeling her nerves against the feat she was about to undertake. Her mark throbbed in her palm, the tingling becoming painful now that they were so close to the Breach.

Solas was at her side again. "This rift is closed, but only temporarily. To seal it properly it will need to be opened again," he turned his eyes on her, "Which will likely attract attention from the other side."

"Which means demons," Elissa finished. Solas nodded. Cullen cursed behind her. She took a deep breath and approached the rift.

"Get ready!" Cassandra shouted behind her.

She threw her hand up towards the rift again, except this time she felt a different sensation. Instead of pushing into the rift she pulled against it, gently at first and then more forcefully when nothing happened. Abruptly the rift burst forth with light and a massive demon materialized in the air. It was much larger than anything she had seen up until now, its entire body sheathed in plates of natural armour. As it dropped to the ground everything shook and it uttered a terrible yell, turning to face Elissa and her companions. She threw her magic against it except this time the burning embers only covered part of its body before dissipating. The beast let out a quivering growl which gave her the distinct impression it was _laughing_ at her.

_Shit._

She had been relying too much on this newfound talent for magic and hadn't even bothered to find a usable sword along her way. _Reckless_ she screamed at herself. The demon was heading straight towards her, despite the barrage of attacks being leveled against it from a number of other sources.

_Focus._

She began to edge towards an outcropping of stone, intending to use it as a barrier, when suddenly Cullen was there with his weapon drawn and shield out, standing between her and the demon. In a moment it was upon him and Elissa looked on in horror. She threw attack after attack at the beast but it simply shrugged off her attempts to harm it. It leveled a brutal swing towards Cullen, though he easily deflected the blow with his shield and landed a slew of his own attacks against it. The creature howled with rage and doubled its attacks against the commander, who met its fury head on. Dodge. Shield. Attack. Dodge. Attack. Cullen was clearly no novice on the battlefield and Elissa was impressed. Not that she had much to compare it to but the sight before her couldn't possibly be a common occurance. The sound of his shield cracking and splitting away broke her from her reverie and she threw everything she had against the beast as it leveled another attack against the shieldless commander.

_NO._

Something within her burst forth. Her own awareness gave way for another presence that was not her own, yet familiar. She had felt powerful when she swept away a dozen demons with a flick of her wrist but the magic that flowed through her now was _absolute_. If she willed it she could level this entire mountain range, though her goals were much simpler. In a blink she was between the giant demon and the commander, catching its blow in her hand, blocking it as easily as a blowing leaf. The beast howled. She narrowed her eyes at the demon and embers began to glow in the center of its chest. It screamed again and tried to knock her aside but she swatted the attack away, not unlike a pestering fly. The embers began to spread forth across its body, leaving behind the familiar black ash in its wake. A few moments later the beast let out a final growl as it was consumed entirely, it's still burning embers floating back into the rift above. She turned her gaze up and lifted the mark, unleashing its power against the large rift.

Elissa felt the power subsiding and she turned around to see Cullen looking at her in awe. Reflected in his breastplate she saw herself and gasped. Her skin was giving off a faint glow but her eyes were beacons of light as the magic that still coursed through her made its presence known. Good. If that show of power hadn't frightened him off, nothing would. She gave him a smile, feeling the last bit of strength fading and everything went black.


	6. Haven

When Elissa awoke she was wrapped in warmth, all the way down to her toes. _Maker_ , her toes were never this warm. She wriggled with delight savouring the moment until she reluctantly opened her eyes. 

She found herself in a small room with early morning sun peeking in through the windows. A small fire was down to burning embers in the hearth, its earlier presence no doubt contributing to her happy toes. 

However, of all the warm things in this room, the sight of Commander Cullen sitting in a chair next to her bed with his head nodded in sleep brought her the most joy. He still had a paper gripped in his hand, though several others had dropped and scattered to the floor. 

His face had none of the usual sternness to it while he slept. He looked more more like the young Templar she remembered, albeit more relaxed. He had a scar on his lip she didn't remember from before and she found herself curious how he had recieved it. While she was busy staring he stirred, letting out a low groan. He lifted his head slowly and brought his free hand up to the back of his neck to rub out the kink he no doubt had from falling asleep like that.

"How did you get stuck watching the sleeping apostate?" she inquired from her nest of blankets. 

He turned to her with a start, he had not realized she was awake. "I'm not _watching the sleeping apostate,_ " he retorted, "We wanted to make sure you didn't, umm... die." _Again_. He wanted to make sure she didn't die, _again_.

"Or blow up the camp," she added. 

He laughed softly. "Or blow up the camp," he repeated, collecting his fallen papers from the floor. 

"They really couldn't find some underling to do this _crucial_ task? I'm sure you have more important things to be doing with your time."

He just shrugged. "There's nothing I can do from my office that I can't do here." Elissa seriously doubted that. She raised her eyebrow but he ignored it.

He stood to leave, glancing down at her. "I'll go let the others know you've woken. When you're ready, we will be in the Chantry. Just follow the steps up the hill." Elissa nodded from her spot of warmth on the bed, knowing she would have to leave it eventually. Cullen crossed the room with a couple long strides but turned back to her from the door. 

"As I recall you were quite talented with a blade," he said, eyeing her. "Think you can still use one? Your magic is... impressive, but best not leave it as your only defense." 

She paled a little, and nodded silently again. She had already decided to find a weapon to see if her instincts to draw a blade could translate into an effective use of one. Clearly Cullen also didn't want her stuck again in the reckless position she had backed herself into against the armoured demon. He nodded to her, satisfied with her reaction, then left the room.

* * *

The area where they waited for her in the back of the Chantry wasn't grand. Furniture had been pushed up against the walls to create room for the large tables that took up the centre of the space. Cullen stood on the far side of these tables, glowering. Cassandra stood next to him, hands clasped behind her back and face impassive. The pair were exchanging heated words with a gnarled old man in Chantry robes. 

"If she holds that kind of power who's to say she _didn't_ create the Breach in the first place?" he spat.

"She has been risking her life trying to _close_ it, Chancellor" Cullen retorted in a half snarl.

"And yet she still lives," the old man snapped back.

"The Breach appears stable now, following the closure of the first rift," Cassandra spoke up."That would have been impossible without her. It's still not sealed, but it has stopped spreading. Her mark has been stable aswell."

Elissa pulled the hand in question out in front of her. She was right, the chaotic tingling shocks were gone now, in truth she almost couldn't feel it. The movement caught the attention of the chancellor who turned around to face her, contempt dripping from his features.

"You're letting the _prisoner_ roam about freely?!" he growled. 

"She is no longer a prisoner," Cullen interjected hotly. 

"Don't tell me you believe this nonsense about her being the returned dead Hero of the past," he turned back to look at the others.

"I do," Leliana spoke softly as she entered the room, causing the man to swivel once again. He narrowed his eyes at her, "You of all people should know better than-"

"I of all people should know best who she is," the red haired woman replied evenly. Elissa was a little surprised by the statement, and she stared at Leliana with new interest. Did this woman _know_ her?

"We have other concerns besides the Breach," Leliana stepped up to the table. "Whoever set off the explosion may have died with the rest, or they may yet have allies who still live." She narrowed her eyes at the chancellor.

"I am a suspect?" he said, incredulous. 

"You and many others," Leliana said dangerously.

"Irrelevant. You lack the authority to-"

The chancellor was cut off as Cassandra slammed an old heavy book against the table. "Do you know what this is?" she demanded, pointing at the cover. "A writ from the Divine, granting us authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn."

She rounded on the speechless chancellor, “We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order with or without your approval.”

Elissa found Cassandra intimidating in general and was especially grateful she wasn't on the receiving end of her fury now. The old man snarled at the Seeker but turned on his heel and left the room without another word. 

Leliana turned to Elissa, “This is the Divine’s directive: Rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos. We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support.”

Cassandra crossed the room towards Elissa, “But we have no choice: We must act now. With you at our side.”

Elissa caught Cullen's eye from across the room and he gave her a little encouraging smile. She turned back to Cassandra. 

"I said I would help. I'm just glad I can."

* * *

Following the dramatic events of the morning the town of Haven became a flurry of motion. The echos from the blacksmith at the foot of the hill could be heard all the way to the Chantry. Messengers scurried along the paths and sure-footed elven servants ventured out into the woods to collect supplies for potions and salves. Ravens bearing messages departed at regular intervals to parts unknown, their small forms disappearing over the horizon.

Elissa found herself, sword in hand, staring down at Cullen across a sparring ring. He had offered to help her train, which had felt like a good idea at the time. Now she could think of nothing else but his skill fighting the massive demon at the rift and prayed she wouldn't make a fool of herself.

She gripped the blade in her hand. It felt comfortable there, which was a good start. Cullen lunged forward and she easily slid out of the way of his attack, leveling her own against his side which he blocked with his shield. 

They parted and stalked around the edges of the ring. She moved in a half-croutch, low to the ground but still light on her feet. He struck out again and she parried the blow, turning his blade towards the ground and leaping out of range again. She motioned for a pause and Cullen stood back to his full height, raising an eyebrow. Elissa turned to a nearby weapon stand, searching. She picked out a second shorter blade and felt the weight of it in her free hand. Yes. This felt _right_. 

She returned to the ring, a smile creeping across her face. After giving him a moment to prepare Elissa closed the distance between them in a rush, dual swords raised and swinging. He dodged her attack, leveling one against her flank but she spun and parried the blow, bringing her other weapon around for another attack which met with his shield. She moved away to the outer ring and began to stalk the edge again.

The other soliders who had been training in the space had all stopped their activities, instead turning to watch her fight with their commander. She no longer feared making a fool of herself in the ring, she clearly had the skill to match her earlier confidence. Now her singular focus was to win the bout. In the ring they were evenly matched: his added brawn against her light-footed agility.

She prowled the edge of the ring, watching his movements like a hawk and the sounds of their steel clashing brought more onlookers from other parts of the camp. She focused entirely on him, every slight movement observed and quickly analysed for an incoming attack. He rolled his weight from his heel towards his toes and she danced away from the ensuing attack. Neither had landed a blow against the other yet. They stood, chests heaving the cool mountain air out in puffs of steam.

She lunged forward, attacking high and hooking her ankle behind his when he reached to parry. As he lost his balance she grinned, until he discarded his shield with shocking speed and grabbed her arm, bringing her down. He spun and she hit the ground first, and with a surprising amount of dexterity he landed astride her. His free hand was gently to her throat with the other hand holding his blade pointed just beneath her jaw, the tip resting between his thumb and forefinger.

"Finally," he breathed heavily, grinning in victory. 

She just smiled beneath him, tapping the blade she had nestled between his armour and his side. The crowd around them, who had been holding their breath, erupted in applause. The feeling of his weight on her, of his hands against her skin, sent little shivers through her body.

" _Maker's Breath_ ," he let out low rumbling laugh, removing his sword from her neck and driving it into the ground next to them. He lifted himself off of her and lowered a hand to help her up. She grasped it and let him pull her upright. "I really don't think we need to worry about your skill on the battlefield," he panted, "Between _that_ and your magic, you're a force of nature."

She laughed softly, still catching her own breath. Her innate ability with the sword was a welcome surprise. The magic was useful, but when it had failed her against the demon she had known fear. Had Cullen not intervened when he did she might have been flat under the creature's foot before her magic came to life. She wouldn't have to face that again now. She gripped the blade in her hand reassuringly and returned Cullen's gaze. 

"Same time tomorrow then, Commander?"


	7. Answers

In the weeks that followed the birth of the Inquition Haven had grown, swelling beyond the modest cluster of buildings in its center. Men and women arrived daily, eager to combat the force that could rip apart the sky. Some had also heard whispers about the Herald of Andraste actually being the resurrected Hero of Ferelden, though Leliana was trying to squash those rumors as they arose, with the help of another new arrival: Josephine. A gifted wordsmith from Antiva, the woman had taken control of the Inquition's diplomatic correspondence and seemed to thrive buried in letters tucked away in her little candlelit office in the Chantry.

Elissa had begun to venture out on small missions on behalf of the Inquisition with Cassandra, Solas and Varric. The villages and communities around Haven had been ravaged by the newly appearing rifts as well as warring factions of mages and templars. Many of the surrounding townsfolk had been forced to flee as their homes became battlefields. Elissa was happy to help with sealing rifts and offering aid and protection where it was needed. However, she didn't enjoy killing mages and templars. Whenever she returned to Haven after such a battle it left a bitter taste in her mouth.

She and Cullen had continued their regular sparring sessions, which had quickly become a popular diversion for the recruits. They had eventually grown more accustomed to each other's fighting styles and bouts had been won and lost in nearly equal measure. Elissa would have to check with the sergeant for the recent score, she knew they had been keeping a tally somewhere in the barracks.

She had never seen Cullen struggle with leadership, his men had always followed his commands to the letter, but they regarded him now with a blossoming sense of awe. His directions and stance corrections while he supervised training were no longer met with tight-lipped acceptance but enthusiastic fervour. They didn't just want to be able to fight: they wanted to be able to fight like _him_. They had seen him fight toe-to-toe with the alleged Hero of Ferelden and hold his ground.

The rumours that surrounded her always found their way to her ears, though most of it sounded like grand exaggerated tales. She had heard one such story about _werewolves_ only just that morning. Other stories had been confirmed by general acceptance that the public as a whole believed without contest.

The Hero was a Grey Warden, though she still hadn't discovered just what that was. The Hero had also rallied armies behind her to fight off an army of darkspawn. Darkspawn was another unfamiliar term, with a wide range of explanations. And finally the Hero had died defeating an Archdemon and thereby ending the Blight. The Fifth Blight. Elissa wasn't sure what a Blight was either but apparently there had been five of them.

Leliana had instructed her to keep her missing memory a secret and Elissa had obliged, even though it mean she couldn't ask the questions she desperately wanted to when conversations about her came up. She had tried to track Leliana down on a number of occasions but the woman was a shadow. Elissa was beginning to suspect the mysterious woman was avoiding her until she knocked on her door one evening, holding a bottle of wine.

"I understand you have some questions," she said simply, walking into the room. Elissa watched her enter and just nodded, closing the door behind her quickly to keep the cold out. Leliana retrieved two glasses from a shelf and placed them on the table. For a brief moment the red haired woman let her perfect composure slip while she bit the cork between her teeth and pried it out of the bottle before gently resting it on the table and smoothly pouring out two glasses. She then sat down, her back straight as an arrow, smiling pleasantly at Elissa.

Still standing at the door Elissa eyed her houseguest before crossing the room and joining her at the table. She picked up the glass and held it in her lap with two hands, swirling the liquid within as she asked her first question.

"Did we know one another?" She was afraid of the answer. If they had known each other it meant Elissa had simply forgotten it all. Despite the weeks they had spent together since her emergence from the Fade no memories had returned to her of the red haired woman.

"We did," Leliana replied simply. She took a sip of her wine and held Elissa's gaze when she looked up from her lap.

"Did we know one another _well_?" She felt she knew the answer already... she had heard the comments made regarding Leliana's expertise regarding the Hero of Ferelden. Regarding _her_. Elissa was so desperate for answers but equally afraid of insulting this enigma of a woman before her. 

"We travelled together for the better part of a year, raising armies and killing darkspawn," she replied casually.

"I'm so sorry," Elissa whispered, her heart dropping. _A year?_ This earned a raised eyebrow from the woman before her. "I don't remember you," Elissa continued, returning her gaze to the wine in her lap.

Leliana just shrugged, her face a flawless mask. She would never know how the woman really felt about the matter. It still bothered Elissa deeply though. Why could she remember Cullen, who she really had barely just met, but not someone she travelled with for months? She pushed the thought aside with some effort. Leliana had come to talk and Elissa had a list of questions. She took a deep breath. 

"What's a Grey Warden?" she began.

"A unique kind of warrior gifted with special abilities against darkspawn," Leliana explained, and continued when the look on her host's face descended into further confusion. "Darkspawn are tainted soulless monsters who reside in the deepest bowels of Thedas. They can come up to the surface now and then, though when they arrive under the guidance of an Archdemon that signifies a Blight: a full onslaught of the darkspawn against the surface. They destroy anything in their path."

"And I was one of those Grey Wardens. I faught those monsters," Elissa's voice was a whisper.

Leliana nodded again, "You may still be one yet, but I lack the skill to tell."

Elissa grew curious with that bit of information. "What makes Wardens special?" Maybe she could tell herself.

Leliana frowned slightly, "I'm really not the best suited to explain that. Alistair would have better answers, but I'll try-"

"Alistair?" Elissa began but Leliana waved her question away as she continued. 

"It has something to do with your blood. You are exposed to the Taint, which should normally be fatal to the living. That Taint allowed you to sense the creatures and, most importantly, kill an Archdemon."

"Why would my blood have let me kill an Archdemon?"

"Something to do with souls. The Archdemon's soul becomes trapped within the Taint in the Warden," Leliana frowned, trying to remember. "They only other Warden I know got very cagey with the details when I asked him about it."

Elissa nodded, absorbing this new information. Then suddenly remembering she asked, "Did I ever fight _werewolves_?"

Leliana chuckled, "Yes, actually."

They pair talked late into the night about their adventures ten years ago. She learned about Redcliff and the possessed little boy with his undead army. About travelling down into the Deep Roads beneath Orzammar fighting darkspawn and discovering a lost Thaig. Even about the werewolves in the Brecilian Forest. They did not discuss the events of the Mage's Circle however, that was not something to reminisce about. Leliana had finally filled in some of the gaps in her memory, though Elissa could tell there was much she was leaving out purposefully. Especially about other their companions, she hadn't mentioned them at all. Before she was able to ask though, there was a knock on the door. 

Leliana eyed the door warily. "Were you expecting company," she asked quietly, turning a speculative gaze on Elissa. 

"No," Elissa hissed at the accusation. Leliana just raised her eyebrows in indifference and stood to answer the door. 

"Oh, Nightingale," came a familiar voice. Elissa poked her head around Leliana's shoulder to see Cullen standing out in the cold. "Oh good, you're both here," he said, handing a small folded sheet of paper to Leliana, "Saves me a trip. You know you can be terribly difficult to track down." That was directed at Leliana, who just smiled softly while she opened the letter. 

"It's an invitation," Leliana's eyebrows arched and Cullen nodded. "To Highever." All eyes turned to Elissa and she felt that same dread about being the last to know something about herself everyone else knew. Before she had to ask Leliana elaborated. 

"You were born in Highever. Your brother is Teyrn now. He has heard the rumours and has invited you home to visit, to see for himself," Leliana's expression was soft. "If you don't want to go..." she began but Elissa cut her off. 

"No. I want to go." She would meet this brother, there was only one way to know if she'd recognize him. She hesitantly raised her eyes towards Cullen. "Will you come?"

He held her gaze for a moment, long enough for Leliana to impassively stare at them each in turn, before he nodded. She let out a breath she had been holding, relieved. She could face this unknown with him at her side.

"I'll write and tell the Teyrn to expect us, then," Leliana announced. "We'll leave tomorrow."


	8. Highever

Imposing cliffs jutted out from the rocky shore like great stone giants guarding the land above from the tumultuous seas crashing against them below. The onslaught of the water was relentless, wave after unending wave breaking themselves across the stone and rock. It was a bleak place where little grew and what did find purchase to blossom was small and stunted. They rode in rain. True to it's name the Storm Coast had opened the heavens to try and drown them all on dry land as if out of spite that they had chosen to ride a safe distance from the shore and its monstrous waves.

Elissa actually seemed to be enjoying it. She held out her hands to catch the rain drops and smiled, tilting her head up to the sky to let the drops fall on her face. Cullen was cold and miserable but seeing her delight in something as mundane as rain warmed him. They rode side by side in a comfortable silence and while he enjoyed the opportunity to spend time with Elissa he dearly wanted to get out of his wet clothes and find a well stocked fire. He knew they must be approaching Highever soon.

Elissa felt _alive_ in the rain. She could practically feel the waves rolling against the shore in her blood. She caught Cullen's bemused look from the corner of her eye and she felt a small blush creep across her face. The rest of their party looked downright miserable in the downpour while Elissa really wanted to dismount and dance in it. She adopted a more somber expression and let her shoulders droop, though she shot Cullen a smile from beneath her hood. He chuckled lightly beside her. The sound further fueled her blush which she hoped was hidden as she turned back towards the road.

She had hoped she would recognize the Highever lands but was disappointed when someone announced they had almost arrived already. The landscape they rode through, while beautiful in a bleak sort of way, offered up no memories for her. A tendril of anxiety slowly reached out and began to wrap itself around her, gently at first but quickly becoming almost suffocating. She had thought for sure she would have recognized her childhood home but the castle that emerged before them was unfamiliar and imposing.

Leliana rode back towards them, her expression calm and unreadable as usual. "I'm going to ride ahead and meet with our host," she paused briefly, looking at Elissa, "and I'll explain our unique situation." Elissa swallowed hard and nodded. In another moment Leliana was off towards the castle at a gallop to meet with the inhabitants that had emerged from the main gate.

Elissa felt as though her blood had turned to frozen seawater, clogging up her veins with an icy slurry. "Was this a mistake?" she breathed when the rest of the travelling party had passed onwards, leaving her and Cullen in the rear.

"Whether or not you remember him will matter little compared to him seeing his family alive and well again," Cullen said simply. He pulled his horse alongside hers and dismounted smoothly to her left, giving his mount a pat on the neck. "Let's walk from here, give your legs a stretch."

She got down from her horse in a fluid motion and stood next to Cullen, but her feet were unwilling to carry her towards the imposing gate. "But if I dont remember..." she began, eyes falling on the figure Leliana was speaking with, "I'm not sure I can see the disappointment. I'm letting people down, as if being unaware of my own life somehow tarnishes it."

Cullen stared back at her. Her eyes were locked on the castle gates and her entire body was rigid as though she was preparing to bolt away. He brought out a hand and rested it on her shoulder, giving it a little squeeze which sent water dripping down her arm from the sodden fabric. She blinked away from the stranger approaching with Leliana and took a deep steading breath, bringing her own hand up to rest over his. Her fingers were warm despite the rain and chill. "Thank you," she whispered before dropping her hand and pulling her shoulders back to stand up straight and marching down towards the man Leliana was bringing her way.

* * *

Fergus Cousland had been warned about his sister's lost memory but what he really hadn't prepared himself for was actually _seeing_ her again. It was one thing to be told something incredulous and nigh unbelieveable but to _experience_ it: he wasn't ready to witness a miracle. She hadn't aged a day since he last saw her here in Highever, barely an adult in her own right. She had then gone on to raise armies, avenge her family and avert a bloody civil war before sacrificing herself to kill an archdemon and end the Blight. He, like much of Ferelden, had built her up in his mind as this great figurehead akin to Andraste and her great bowls of fire. But here she stood. His little sister. Wet from the rain and looking like a young colt ready to sprint away from a loud noise.

Leliana was introducing them now, which seemed like such an awkward formality. Some of her titles were certainly new and as Leliana droned on he realized she was buying time for Elissa to try and remember. He felt frozen in place and scrutinized, scarcely daring to breathe as he waited. Leliana turned from her companion and began going through Fergus' titles, which were going to sound drab following after that list.

"And this is the Teyrn of Highever-"

"Fergus." Her voice was like a song and the smile that followed lit up the dreary sky. It was Fergus' turn to take in a sharp breath while everyone else held theirs now. She approached him slowly, her hand lifting to grasp his forearm and holding it tight as though she were making sure he was real. When her eyes turned back up to him there were tears in them, breaking free and blending into the rain down her cheeks.

"I thought you died at Ostagar," she whispered.

"No," he breathed, "I was injured on a scouting mission and missed-" the rest of his sentence was lost as she wrapped him in a tight hug, forcing the air from his lungs. He returned the hug and held her tight, fighting back his own tears. She remembered. _She remembered_. He didn't know how long they had been standing there when he began to feel her embrace change. Instead of holding him she was clutching his arms and her body began to shudder and he realized she was sobbing into his chest. He tried to tilt his head to see her face and caught Leliana's expression and he realized.

She wasn't just remembering him.

He moved his hand to her hair and gently stroked the back of her head. "I know, Little Pup. I know." The sobbing intensified and the blonde man standing next the Leliana shifted uncomfortably on his feet looking concerned. Fergus began to wonder who this stranger was to his sister when she pulled her face away from his chest and looked up at him, grief written across her youthful features. When she spoke it came in broken sobs.

"Oriana- I didn't- I wasn't fast enough- Oh Maker no- Oren- I was too late- I'm sorry. _I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry._ "

"Shhh now Little Pup," Fergus soothed, pulling strands of wet hair off of her face. "It feels fresh now but these are old wounds. You of all people need not apologize."

"Mother," she sobbed. " _Father_." She gasped then, and he could guess what she was remembering next. "It was..." her face frowned into confusion. Then disbelief. Then fury. The features of her face became almost unrecognizable as the anger washed away her youth and left something feral in its wake. The grip on his arms tightened until it was nearly painful. "It was _Howe_." She spat the name out like poison on her tongue. The next moment to Fergus' utter shock her eyes took on an eerie glow and he could swear the gravel around their feet began to shake.

In that same moment the blonde man had stepped forward and placed one hand firmly on her shoulder.

"Elissa."

He said it softly, but with an edge of warning. She immediately calmed with the contact, releasing her vicelike grip on Fergus' arms and closing her eyes. Once again Fergus wondered who this man was. When she opened her eyes again the glow was gone and the anger had dissipated from her face, though it still settled in her eyes. The blonde man glanced quickly at Fergus before pulling his hand away and taking a hasty step back, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck and looking nowhere in particular.

"We were betrayed," she said slowly, her voice a low growl and dripping with contempt. Fergus turned his attention back to her and nodded somberly. His little sister seemed less little now. In fact, she looked positively formidable. He could understand how armies would have rallied behind her rather then face her on the battlefield. "What happened to him? Where is he?"

"Dead." Fergus said simply. "By your hand." He thought the Maker unkind to let her remember this betrayal but not her part in avenging it.

She looked at him a little surprised. " _I_ killed him?"

"Somewhat brutally, if the stories are to be believed."

She nodded to herself. "Good," she said quietly. The anger had almost totally left her now, though Fergus knew the embers would take a long time to cool. He had had a decade to put that rage behind him. For her though, it was still raw and fresh. She took in a deep breath and stepped away from him, once again his little sister, wet and sniffling. He ruffled her hair and she made an indignant noise and swatted him away gently with her hand. Yes, definitely his little sister.

"Is my," she began and paused, "Where do you have us sleeping?" She eyed the castle, tilting her face up to the parapets. "Your room is still the same," Fergus replied quietly. Without looking away from the walls she nodded and held her jaw tight, then strode towards the castle with determination. The blonde man quickly left Leliana's side and fell into stride beside her.

Fergus watched her go and Leliana stepped up beside him, her hands clasped behind her back. He turned down towards her and asked the question that had been nagging at him, "Who is he?" He nodded towards the blonde man walking alongside his sister.

"Cullen Rutherford," Leliana replied. "Commander of the Inquisition." Fergus nodded and she continued, "Formerly Knight-Captain of the Kirkwall Templars." He gave her a sideways glance and raised an eyebrow. Everyone knew what happened in Kirkwall. Everyone except maybe Elissa. Leliana was impassive, her expression giving nothing away while she spoke.

"And before that he was stationed in Kinloch Hold." He turned now to stare at Leliana who just nodded solemnly. Fergus let out a low whistle. While many discussed the events of Kirkwall readily there were few who sought out conversation involving the fall of the Fereldan Circle during the Fifth Blight. Fergus surpressed a shiver.

"Elissa was actually the one to rescue him," she continued. "And she recognized him almost immediately when they first saw each other a few weeks ago. Until today he's been the only person she's known from _before_. She has... come to rely on him greatly."

They watched the pair approaching the gates. They walked closely, though not actually touching and Cullen spent more time watching her than the ground in front of him.

"The King will be arriving later this evening." Fergus said, turning to his companion. "Has he been told?"

Leliana nodded. "I wrote to him personally and explained as best I could. You can't exactly tell a man in his position to manage his expectations."

"She'll remember him. If she remembered someone like Cullen, she has to remember him."

"She didn't remember me," Leliana shrugged and Fergus turned to her with a surprised expression before turning back away to watch the pair entering through the main gate.

"Does Cullen know? About Elissa and Alistair? _Does Elissa know?_ "

Leliana shook her head, "No more than the idle gossip spouted in the barracks. Few of us really knew about their relationship. As for Elissa," Leliana let out a long sigh and shrugged, "It causes her undue stress worrying about what she has forgotten. She will remember him or she won't. We can't prepare her. And we certainly can't tell her how to live her life."

"Maker preserve us," Fergus murmured. "And Cullen, if Alistair gets his hands on him."


	9. The King of Ferelden

Alistair Theirin despised carriages. He felt they symbolized the things he hated most about the nobility and as a result he used them as little as possible. Unfortunately for him that meant he experienced the trip to Highever wet, cold and tired. He was almost always tired these days. Although he himself was in dire need of rest he pressed forward, dragging his retinue along with him, all drooping in their saddles.

 _She_ was in Highever. He had read Leliana's letter over and over, committing each word to memory though he still kept the parchment tucked away within his cloak against his heart. He still couldn't fathom how its contents were even possible but he knew Leliana was not one to set up an elaborate lie like this. Not with him. Not about _her_.

Ten years. Ten bloody years and she was _alive_. Returning now to the place she had called home. The place that they had never seen together though she had spoken of often. He had found some semblance of solace here in the time after... after she had died. He closed his eyes and the memory flowed back to him unbidden. Unwelcome.

_He had tried to get there first, but she had been closer. His muscles ached from the ceaseless fighting but he had run, Maker, he had RUN. But she already had grabbed the sword, lifting its weight with ease as she rammed the blade through the defeated beast's head. In that moment she had turned to him, her mouth moving and conveying a last voiceless message to him across the sounds of battle._

_I love you. Always._

_The ensuing explosion had hurled him backwards against the stone. By the time he had finally reached her she was already gone. It should have been him. The archdemon was dead and she laid by its side, unmoving. He pulled her body to him, willing life back into it as though he could accomplish it from wanting it badly enough. He had prayed. He had begged. And she had returned his gaze with sightless eyes._

_The people had cheered. They didn't know. They couldn't know the sacrifice Wardens made to defeat an archdemon. As he had clung to her lifeless body they had celebrated victory._

_He had wept._

He opened his eyes once again. Ten years. It made little difference. He had never really adjusted to living in a world without her in it. He would still see her face in a crowd or hear her laugh across a busy room. She haunted him, and this place always made it worse. The place where he laid her to rest and said goodbye.

Except now somehow she had found her way back. So he carried on towards the castle despite the fading light and unyielding rain because this was no longer just the place he had said goodbye: it was the place he would finally see her again.

He arrived as the last shades of light were fading from the sunset. Were it not for the rain stars would have been visible by now. As the castle came into view he broke into a gallop, leaving his retinue scrambling to keep up. He felt an almost boyish glee building within him, his exhaustion forgotten for the moment.

Fergus was waiting for him with a small gathering as befit the arrival of their monarch though Alistair had no patience for the formalities. He scanned the crowd but the face he was searching for was not present. He rode right up to the Teyrn and dismounted before his horse had even fully stopped moving, passing the reigns off to a scurrying stablehand.

"Where is she?" he asked, suddenly breathless and scanning the crowd again though he knew he wouldn't have overlooked her face even in the fading light and rain.

"My King, you should know-"

"Fergus. Where is she." Alistair was impatient and focused his severe gaze on the Teyrn. He had already waited ten years, he wasn't wasting another bloody moment.

Fergus hesitated, eyeing the king. "She's in the gardens, visiting the Teyrn and Teyrna's memorial."

Alistair nodded and made his way towards the main gate.

* * *

Elissa stood in a small garden with creeping vines and flowers winding their way up pillars and across the ground. Intricate stone pathways led from the edges of the garden towards the centre where a great statue had been carved in stone of a woman thrusting a sword into the air, her armoured foot valiantly placed upon the head of a ferocious looking beast in victory. In the stonework were inscribed words, partially hidden beneath encroaching moss.

_Elissa Cousland  
The Hero of Ferelden_

The woman in stone looked formidable. The likeness was uncanny but she felt no kinship with this figure and it made Elissa uneasy just looking at it. She turned away and made her way towards another, smaller stone pillar that had been erected in a patch of wildflowers she had seen growing along the cliffs towards Highever. This too had words engraved at the base: _In Loving Memory of Bryce and Eleanor Cousland_.

The words brought forth the memories that had returned when she saw Fergus but after those first few moments had passed all were now etched with grief, regardless of their initial warmth or joy. She could remember her parents. She could remember how much she loved them and the terrible circumstances of how she lost them. She could remember grieving them but tears still formed in her eyes and she tried, unsuccessfully, to blink them away. A warm hand reached across her back and found her shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

"They are all gone," she said, her voice hitched and on the verge of breaking. "What if," she swallowed hard, "What if they are trapped where I was?" The thought was unbearable and fresh tears spilled down her face. Cullen's hand curled her inwards towards his chest and his other hand found her hair and gently smoothed it down, letting her head rest against the hollow of his neck.

"They are not there." His voice was deep and she could hear it resonate in his chest.

"You don't know that, they could-"

"They are _not_ there."

She wanted so desperately to just believe him but she cried anyways. He held her like this for some time until the weeping began to subside and she felt with growing certainty he was right. They hadn't been subjected to the taint or had their souls wrenched away with the soul of an Archdemon, Leliana had explained that much to her. Despite the gruesome nature of their deaths they were safe. They would have been taken to the Maker's side.

As her breathing returned to normal Cullen released her from him and gently let his hands gently rest on her arms in a half-embrace. Elissa wiped her tears from her face with her hand and took a deep steadying breath before looking up into his amber eyes. He looked down at her with an uncharacteristic softness, his face only inches from hers.

The door to the gardens opened with a sudden abruptness, startling the silence that surrounded its occupants. Cullen turned his gaze towards the newcomer and swiftly dropped his arms from her as his body went ridged. His face lost its soft expression as it shifted into a standoffish stare, his jaw held tight. Elissa turned from him and regarded the man who entered herself, curious who would elicit such a reaction from the commander.

The stranger stood tall and carried himself with an easy confidence, despite his heavy breathing and the slightly frantic air about him. _Maker, had he run here?_ A fine but well worn cloak was drapped around his broad shoulders, the bottom muddied from travel. His golden hair was lightly disheveled as if an attempt had been made recently to get the rain out of it. He had a handsome face and light brown eyes that stared at her with such an unmasked intensity she felt a blush begin to creep across her face.

She stared back, somehow holding his gaze without faltering, because the longer she looked the more certain she was that there was something _almost_ familiar about him. She waited for the memories to flood back to her, curious what her relationship to this man was.

Except none came.

The silent exchange between them stretched out and she watched as his face gave way from awe to joy and ultimately creeping confusion as she began to frown slightly back at the stranger. Finally, Cullen cleared his throat behind her.

"Your majesty," came the gravelly voice of the commander from just above her right ear. This caught Elissa rather off guard. _Your majesty?_ This man was a king?

The stranger glanced at Cullen and narrowed his eyes briefly before turning his gaze back to her.

"Elissa?" he said softly, an unspoken question looming in the air between them. His voice was like velvet, caressing each syllable of her name, and it sent a little thrill through her to hear it. Who _was_ he?

"I'm- I'm sorry," she blurted, tired of having to say these words at all and especially unhappy to be saying them now. "You seem to know me but I'm afraid I can't say the same. I'm sorry but I- I don't know who you are."

The man, who had been looking at her so softly a moment ago, now stared at her in abject horror as the colour drained from his face. Elissa, not for the first time, resented the gaps in her memory. She desperately wanted to run, to put as much distance between herself and this puesdo-stranger as she could before she could cause him more grief. She was so tired of letting people down, of seeing the look in their eyes. She couldn't help but feel that they assumed she held them in such low regard that their affect on her life wasn't worth remembering. She _hated_ it.

Her flight reflex began to win out and she took a step back only to bump into Cullen. Her shoulder pressed into his chest and he brought his hand to her arm to steady her. The stranger watched the interaction with a pained expression and she quickly stepped away from Cullen, towards the door.

"I'm really sorry," she repeated, side-stepping around the man and no longer meeting his gaze, though she knew it followed her. "I'm _really_ sorry."

She heard Cullen begin to follow but his footfalls abruptly stopped. She risked a glance behind her to see the stranger had clasped the commander's upper arm as he passed, holding it tightly with fingertips digging into the flesh. The king turned towards Cullen but she couldn't see his face now, just the back of his head as the commander fixed him in a deliberate hard stare, his jaw still tight. Elissa stood frozen in place and holding her breath until the grip finally loosened and the arm dropped from Cullen. He held the king's gaze for a few more moments as, to Elissa's surprise, something almost sympathetic flashed across his face before returning to its neutral, serious expression. He then stepped away from the stranger and crossed the gardens in a few long strides until he met Elissa at the door.

She looked up at him curiously and he returned her look with an utterly unreadable expression as he pulled the door open and waited for her to exit. She cast one more glance at the stranger behind them before she left. The king was still standing with his back to her, his broad shoulders pulled back as he stood to his full height, his head turned towards the great statue in the centre of the gardens allowing her a glimpse of his side profile. Just as the door closed behind them she thought she saw something slip down the man's cheek, but she convinced herself it must have just been the rain dripping from his golden hair.

Out in the hallway she continued to walk to put some space between her and the stranger, Cullen keeping pace beside her.

"That man," she began slowly, recalling his gaze and the faint familiarity that she felt from him despite the lack of memory, "He is a king?" She glanced towards Cullen as they walked. He nodded.

"The King of Ferelden," he replied, eyeing her curiously. "Did you... not recognize him?"

She stopped and turned to face him. "No, I didn't," she said breathlessly, "But he seemed to know me. Did I," she trailed off for a moment, "Did I know him?" She could guess his answer.

"You did," he replied, his eyes meeting her own. She waited for him to continue but he remained silent and when it was clear he wasn't going to offer her anything further she turned and carried on. Cullen followed.

She found herself back at her chambers and she stopped in front of the door, staring at the varnished wood. The last time she had slept in this room her family had been massacred. The joy she had felt from the familiar place earlier disappeared and a small knot of stress began to grow within her. As she placed her hand on the handle Cullen spoke from behind her.

"I'll leave you to your rest, my lady."

She pushed open the door to the darkened room and the knot grew further and she turned back to Cullen, mild panic in her voice as she spoke, "Would you stay?" He was unprepared for the request. "My- My lady?" he tripped over his words, and in the subdued torchlight she thought she saw a subtle blush reach his cheeks. Her eyes widened as her brain grasped the potential meanings behind her question and she rambled out an explanation.

"It's just- The last time- The last time I was here..." she trailed off and Cullen's expression grew softer as he stared down at her. "I don't want to be alone," she whispered.

His jaw was tight as he looked at her, his brow furrowed with concern and his features thick with indecision. She was about to apologize and send him away, regretting her request, when he just nodded. She let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding and felt the knot within her begin to subside.

She turned back to the darkened room and crossed the threshold, Cullen's footsteps sounding quietly behind her own. As he closed the door behind him the room fell into darkness. Elissa moved towards the bed with the confidence of someone who had crossed this darkened room a thousand times before and made a small gesture with her hand, lighting a sconce on the wall and bathing them both in its soft glow.

Cullen looked awkward, standing in front of the door with one arm raised behind his head and scratching the back of his neck. Elissa perched herself on the edge of the bed and looked towards him, stifling a yawn. "Would you talk to me, until I fall asleep?" This seemed to calm him, and he dropped his hand and nodded stiffly. She crawled under the sheets of the bed and smoothed out her pillow before nestling her head into it. She let her gaze return sleepily to the commander.

The room was sparce of furniture which Cullen quickly ascertained, looking back towards her. She slipped one hand out of the covers and patted the bed beside her, sliding back on the mattress to give him some space. Hesitantly he let his cloak fall from his shoulders and left it upon a table at the foot of the bed. He then pulled the covers up around her shoulders, tucking her in before sitting back against the headboard, carefully not letting any part of him rest against her.

"I'll stay until you're asleep," he said quietly, almost as much to her as to himself. She tilted her face towards him and smiled in thanks just before another yawn broke out from her. He smiled back down at her and after a moment lifted his arm and let it rest against her head, gently stroking her hair. She closed her eyes and sighed softly, relishing the feeling.

"What would you like to hear?" he asked quietly.

"Something without demons. Or heros. Or kings," she replied, nearly sleeping already. She felt his fingers twitch as she said _kings_ , but he continued without any change to his tone.

"I could recite the Chant for you," he suggested softly. She smiled against the pillow, "That sounds perfect."

As Cullen's voice drifted down to her ears and his hand gently stroked her hair Elissa slipped away into a deep sleep.


	10. Alistair

Elissa awoke in a cold sweat with her heart thundering in her chest. She clenched her eyes shut and took in slow deep breaths. _Just a bad dream_ , she said to herself. _Just a bad dream. Just a bad dream._ As she repeated the mantra over and over her pulse began to slow and she slowly opened her eyes only to find she could see nothing in the darkness, which brought on a new discomfort the dream had not. Elissa did not like darkness. Whether or not it bothered her in her past life didn't matter, she would never enjoy quiet, still darkness ever again: it was too similar to Nothing.

Knowing she wouldn't be falling back asleep like this she started to get out of the bed only to realize she wasn't alone. Cullen had stayed and fallen asleep himself, his own deep even breathing now becoming apparent to her ears. She smiled softly, then blushed a little remembering her brazen request for a man to stay with her. At night. In her room. In her _bed_. The blush deepened and she was thankful he wouldn't see it.

Despite his closeness and reassuring presence Elissa still needed to get out of the room and back into the light. She didn't want to disturb Cullen, she knew he needed the rest. The man barely slept. Doing her best not to wake him she maneuvered herself from the blankets and slid out of the bed. It was cold in the room, no fire had been lit and a damp chill hung in the air. She groped around for the chest of drawers wondering if Fergus maybe left extra blankets in there still when her hand grasped something thick with fur. Alarmed she pulled her hand back quickly, but when nothing happened she gingerly reached back out. The fur was resting upon the low table at the foot of the bed and she remembered Cullen leaving his cloak and mantle across it before he sat down. She pulled it to her and draped it across her shoulders. It left her arms bare but it was at least something to combat the chill. She crept to the door and slipped out silently.

Elissa wandered without any particular direction in mind, making her way along the stone statues and torchlit corridors in silence. The castle at night was much different than her initial arrival, which had been a bustling scene of organized chaos. Now, a waning moon cast a soft glow through the windows signaling a break in the seemingly endless rain and the castle was quiet and still.

She found herself back at the entrance of the gardens, the door left ajar and torchlight flickering within. As she crossed the threshold she found she was not alone: the man she had met earlier was still here, sitting on a bench near the memorial dedicated to the Hero of Ferelden. To _her_. She didn't look at the statue of her likeness, it still made her uncomfortable. Instead she eyed the man as he sat still as a statue himself. He hadn't moved with her arrival and she wondered if maybe he had fallen asleep here, it was quite late now. However as she stepped upon a twig on the path it crunched beneath her foot and his head turned back towards her.

She couldn't help feeling a little guilty about disturbing him but also felt oddly compelled to hear his voice again so she smiled sheepishly and blurted out, "I see I'm not the only one who can't sleep."

As if he only just now recognized who she was his eyes widened and he swiftly stood, nodding his head to her. He gave her a little smile, though it faltered as his eyes dropped to the furry mantle of Cullen's cloak draped across her shoulders. "Sleep evades me," he replied, "and there is much on my mind. Although if my lady wishes to visit these gardens alone I'll retire." He began to take a step but Elissa threw up her hands in protest.

"No," she said quickly, maybe too quickly. "I wouldn't mind the company. The castle is eerily unpopulated right now and I find it..." she trailed off for a moment before continuing, "...unpleasant being alone." He looked at her, a strange pained expression crossing his features and for a moment as his body leaned forward slightly she thought he may move closer but his feet remained firmly rooted to the spot. Instead he motioned towards the bench he had been sitting on, inviting her to sit.

She crossed the short distance and sat, facing away from the statue and looking at him as he sat on the far side of the bench. "Is that what keeps you up at this hour?" he asked, "Being alone?" He was pointedly looking at her face though she had caught the furtive looks at the borrowed mantle she wore. She shook her head and stared past him at a nearby plant and replied, "No. I- I had a nightmare."

He looked at her with that pained expression again and she considered her situation; sitting in the middle of the night discussing her dreams with a stranger. No, with the _King of Ferelden_. She looked back at his concerned face. There was just something about him that felt familiar. Comfortable. Safe. When he quietly asked, "Do you want to talk about it?" she found herself quickly detailing the nightmare that had woken her clammy and heart racing.

"I was fighting a dragon," she started, letting her eyes open wide for dramatic effect. "It was a hideous thing and the sounds that came out of it..." she shuddered. "All around me people were fighting these smaller monstrous things, which kept coming in droves. The sky overhead was this intense red, almost like it was on fire, and there were a great number of things around _actually_ on fire."

The king looked visibly pale. When he did speak it was very quiet. "Did you kill it?"

She nodded, feeling a small stab of pride from her dream victory.

"At the top of a tall tower over-looking a burning city," he continued. At this Elissa frowned, he was exactly right. She nodded in confusion and looked at him expectantly.

"That wasn't just a dream," he said slowly, his eyes a thousand miles away, "That really happened. I was there, too." When he turned back to her there was sadness etched in his eyes, "That was how you defeated the Archdemon." Then, in scarcely more than a whisper, "That was how you died."

Elissa took in a sharp breath and felt her blood run cold. _That_ was the Archdemon. She had actually fought and killed that hideous thing. And then died. _Maker's Breath_. No wonder they built bloody statues in her honour. She began to shiver, and crossed her arms across her chest, clutching her opposing upper arms and trying to rub some warmth into them.

The king stood and began unfastening his woolen cloak, nodding to the one she wore. "Take that off." She arched an eyebrow at him but acquiesced and he draped his own heavy fabric around her shoulders, his fingers deftly fastening it. His warmth still lingered in the material and it chased away her chill immediately. As she breathed in his scent she was once again filled with an uncanny sense of familiarity and yet infuriatingly the man before her was still a stranger. What was she missing?

"So I knew the King of Ferelden. Did I come to you seeking aid to fight the Blight? I understand I did quite a bit of travelling across the country recruiting armies."

He shook his head. "I wasn't actually the king then. That came later. I can confirm the extensive travelling though: I helped you raise those armies."

"We travelled together?"

Now he nodded. "Right from the very beginning, actually. We were the only two Grey Wardens to survive the battle at Ostagar. Then we used the Warden's treaties to recruit those armies."

Elissa frowned in thought then dropped her gaze to her hands. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

Without looking she could hear the smile in his voice. "What could you have to be sorry to me for?"

"We accomplished so much together. We travelled for what, a year? More? I have to imagine we were friends..." at this she heard him let out a very small laugh before he covered it with a cough, "and yet I don't remember you. You would be a total stranger to me if it weren't for this..." she trailed off, unsure how to describe the feeling of familiarity she felt from him.

His eyes were intense when she met them again. He had leaned forward towards her slightly. " _This_?" He appeared to be holding his breath.

She shrugged as words still failed her under the fierceness of his gaze and he let out a strained groan. "Elissa," he pleaded. The use of her name sent a strange shiver through her and she struggled to find the words.

"This," she gestured between them, "feels familiar. Like it's happened before. Like this isn't the first day I've met you. You're like a dream I've woken from and it's just slipped from my memory but I can still _feel_ it." She shrugged again, holding his gaze. "You feel familiar."

"But you still don't remember me."

She shook her head. "I'm sorry," she repeated.

He smiled sadly, and shook his head. "No, don't apologize. You _died_ ," his voice cracked a little on the word, "And now you're sitting here discussing the low points of your miraculous resurrection like it is somehow your fault. You're _alive_ , Elissa. That's more than enough."

She smiled softly at his words, for once feeling even a little at peace for returning without her memory. Then she noticed the sky had begun to lighten as the sun slowly climbed towards the horizon.

"I should be getting back," she admitted, somewhat reluctantly. She wasn't sure when she'd get another chance to talk with the king. She was so curious about her past and he seemed to have the answers but Cullen would probably be waking soon, if he hadn't already, only to find her missing. She stood to leave and moved to unfasten his cloak from her shoulders but he interrupted.

"Keep it."

She opened her mouth to protest but he just held up his hand and gently shook his head. "Thank you," she said in earnest as she let go of the fastens and smiled. His cloak was deliciously warm, and his scent lingered on it filling her with that familiar comforting feeling. She was secretly relieved when she didn't have to hand it back. As she leaned to collect Cullen's mantle from the bench beside her the king swooped it up before her. "I'll see he gets it back," he said quickly, something dark flashing through his eyes.

"You're sure? I really don't mind," she said carefully.

"Oh I'm sure." He smiled and had the distinct look of a child who was obviously up to something.

"Well, thank you. I think. And goodnight, umm," she paused, "What should I call you? Your Majesty?"

He smiled softly at her.

"Alistair. _You_ call me Alistair."


	11. In the Morning Light

Cullen awoke to an empty room. It had taken him a moment to recognize where he was and he cursed himself, pinching the bridge of his nose between a callosed thumb and forefinger. He had just closed his eyes for a moment, but must have fallen asleep. He had overstepped and now Elissa had fled.

He groaned and lurched from the bed, preparing to slip out before anyone saw the Commander of the Inquisition leaving her chambers at the crack of dawn. He glanced around the room and noticed his cloak was missing along with the room's owner. He knew he had left it on the table... had she taken it? The thought of his mantle resting atop her delicate shoulders struck a cord of pride within him and he felt a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. 

Then he remembered the king and the smile faded. He had given Cullen such a look before they left he hadn't been sure if the man was going to punch him or weep. He had heard the rumours circulating in the barracks and he had ignored them: gossiping recruits were hardly a reliable source of information. But the look on the man's face when he saw her... there had certainly been _something_ between them.

 _But she didn't remember him_.

Cullen grimaced, feeling a gnawing twist of uncertainty within him. He had grown accustomed to her easy smiles and the way a room lit up when she entered it. The glances he caught when she didn't think he was paying attention. He didn't want to give any of it up. The woman inspired confidence in those around her. Courage. Bravery. And _Makers Breath,_ she was beautiful. He'd be surprised if most of the Inquisition wasn't halfway in love with her already. He was a fool to think she hadn't left someone behind ten years ago... but the _King of Ferelden_? Cullen momentarily lamented his own humble origins, feeling a stab of jealousy.

Movement in the hallway brought his attention back to the present and he quietly listened at the door for the footsteps to recede before he silently slipped out and headed towards his own chamber.

* * *

Elissa found her room empty when she returned and felt a pang of guilt. Cullen must have thought she made a run for it after he stayed. In reality she had been relieved to find his sleeping form next to her. Her face began to pull into a wince as she fretted about the commander and resolved herself to go and track him down to explain her hasty exit during the night.

She reluctantly let her gifted cloak fall from her shoulders and gently hung it from her bedpost, quickly changing out of her still partially damp travelling clothes. She had been too eager following her arrival, and then too tired later, to change. She imagined trying to change with Cullen in the room. He would have no doubt turned and kept his eyes tightly shut, maybe even held a hand over them for good measure. She blushed, quickly pushing the thought aside. 

As she finished pulling her boots back on a quiet knock sounded at her door. Curious, she crossed the room and answered the knock to find her brother standing in the hallway. He grinned at her and she grinned back. 

"You don't know how many times I've walked past this room wishing I could just knock on the door and see you again," he said, smiling while he spoke but his eyes betrayed a sadness. She smiled back sadly. She knew hers wouldn't be the only room he'd wish he could visit the previous occupants of. 

"What brings you here this morning?" she asked, though she was happy just to see him. 

"We didn't get much of a chance to speak yesterday, I was wondering if you'd like to go for a walk along the cliffs? You used to love that and it would give us a catch to catch up," he suggested. She grinned enthusiastically, darting back into the room to collect Alistair's cloak and fastening it around her shoulders. Fergus eyed it speculatively.

"I see you've met with the King," he said carefully.

She nodded. "He said his name is Alistair," she said thoughtfully, "I think it suits him." She absently felt the fabric of the cloak between her fingers before turning up to face her brother. "You're coming up in the world, having the King of Ferelden pay you a visit." She grinned.

Fergus just stared softly at her, something flashing across his face before his easy smile returned and he held out his arm. She linked her own through it and they made their way towards the courtyard and the cliffs beyond. 

* * *

Alistair stalked the castle hunting for his quarry: the owner of the mantle clenched in his fist. Servants and guests alike scurried from his path and furious gaze as he moved through the halls of the castle proper, scanning each of their faces for Cullen. He wanted to break the man in two. He entered the armoury, wondering if the commander would have found his way there.

"Alistair." The use of his name gave him pause, and he turned towards the voice. Leliana stood in the doorway, her face stern and hands held clasped at her back.

"Not now, Leliana," he growled. 

"It's good to see you too, old friend," she replied, unruffled by his anger, as she descended the steps into the room. He glowered. He was not in the mood to be lectured right now. She continued anyway, "You must control your temper, _your_ _Majesty_."

The use of his title was obviously meant to bring him back to his senses but he shrugged it off and raised an accusatory finger at her, "You _knew_. You've been with her from the start. You let this happen."

She just stared at him impassively.

"He had his hands on her, Leliana. By the grace of Andraste she is somehow alive and well and the first time I see her _some other man has his bloody hands on her_ ," he seethed.

"What would you have had me do?" Leliana's brows pulled into a frown. "She was _alone,_ Alistair. Confused and frightened and thrown back into a world of chaos. Would you have had me forbid her from leaning on the only person she _could_ remember? She needed him."

He knew Leliana had a point, but he wasn't ready to concede. "She is taken, Leliana. We were engaged. She was supposed to be my _Queen_." 

"You have no claim on the woman who fell out of the Fade. Your engagement died with the Elissa we used to know. This woman will be allowed to make her own choices, even if they aren't you. You can't _make_ her remember." Leliana's tone was hard, though her face showed uncharacteristic compassion.

"But she remembers that miserable lech?" Alistair snarled despite his fading fury. He knew his anger was misplaced.

"Commander Cullen is an honourable man, not some _miserable lech,_ " she replied coolly. "He has grown to care for her and was unaware of your history, though I suspect he is now beginning to understand. Had she remembered you I doubt he would have tried to stand in your way."

Except she hadn't remembered him. Alistair felt his heart lurch. His entire history with her was one-sided. He knew he couldn't fault Cullen for her lost memory, but he dearly wanted to fault the man for _something_.

As if sensing his thoughts Leliana continued, "If you push him away she will be alone, Alistair. As much as you want to be there for her you are a stranger, with considerable other obligations."

The anger left him at that. In their brief meeting she had expressed her own discomfort at being alone and he didn't want to be the one to condemn her to it. He let out a sigh and loosened his grip on the commander's cloak in his hand. 

He looked down at Leliana's face, which had grown soft with empathy. "How could she not remember?" he breathed.

Leliana eyed her old friend sadly. "I don't know," she said quietly, "The Maker's will isn't for us to understand."

* * *

Cullen had finally found Elissa. He spotted her from a window strolling along the cliffs with Fergus enjoying the rare respite from heavy rain. The sun had risen fully now, helping to rid the air of dampness until the only signs of the previous day's rain were puddles still clinging to dips in the uneven ground. He made his way down to the courtyard to await her return, eager to offer an apology for his lapse in judgement the night before.

It was here that he stood, at the top of the stone steps basking in the warming sun, when someone cleared their throat behind him. He turned to see the King of Ferelden, causally leaning against the doorframe, fixing the commander in a deliberate hard stare. Hanging from his hand was Cullen's missing cloak and mantle. In a moment Cullen connected the cloak now absent from the king's shoulders with the one now drapped around Elissa while she strolled the cliffs with Fergus. She _had_ taken it, but then traded it with the king's. His heart sank. Cullen returned his attention to the man before him, trying to keep his expression impartial.

"Good morning, your majesty," he said dispassionately.

The king nodded in return and gently pushed himself from the doorframe and walked towards the commander. He joined him at the top of the steps, making no move to return the mantle still held tight within his grasp, staring out past the courtyard to the small shapes of Elissa and Fergus returning from their walk. They were still a few minutes away. Cullen turned and followed his gaze. 

"She's an incredible woman," the king said quietly. His voice betrayed no emotion and Cullen cast him a quick glance out of the corner of his eye but his face gave nothing away either. 

"She is," Cullen replied carefully, matching the king's subdued tone.

"I understand you two are close." It wasn't a question. Cullen watched the king's grip tighten on the mantle in his hand while he spoke, though his tone remained even.

Cullen reached one hand up behind his head to scratch the back of his neck. "We-" he cleared his throat and the memory of her pressed beneath him while they sparred leapt to his mind unbidden. "Yes."

The king nodded, his jaw was tight. 

Cullen turned to the king, unable to shake the feeling he was staking a claim where a claim had already been made. The pained look written across the man's features confirmed it. 

"Before-" Cullen struggled to find the words, "You and Elissa-" at the mention of her name the king closed his eyes in a grimace and thrust the mantle in his hands against the commander's chest. Cullen took it gingerly.

"She doesn't remember any of that," the king's voice was hollow although when he turned to the commander his eyes were fierce. "Just keep her alive. That is enough." 

With that the king cast one last glance at the approaching woman drapped in his cloak before turning and leaving Cullen alone on the steps. 


	12. News

A clear day in Highever was a rare luxury, Elissa knew that much. She had enjoyed the sun on her face during her walk with Fergus immensely. He had told her the tale of his life-saving injury which had kept him from the battle at Ostagar and about his recovery with the Chasind. He told her about discovering not only had the world changed drastically when he finally emerged from those woods but that it was his _own sister_ , who was now by all accounts a Grey Warden, that was raising armies of her own to fight the Blight general Mac Tir claimed didn't even exist. Fergus had sounded so proud while he spoke. He also told her about the last ten years, though he didn't mention anything about her death. Most interestingly he talked about Kirkwall and the events leading up to the Conclave. Before long she found herself back in the courtyard of Highever, processing a whole new plethora of information.

Elissa mounted the steps alongside Fergus. Her brother nodded towards the commander who stood atop the stairs. She regarded him nervously, recalling the sound of his breathing while he slept next to her in the quiet of the night. "I saw you talking with the King," Fergus said conversationally.

Cullen just nodded, his mouth drawn into a hard line.

Elissa frowned between the two men in front of her, feeling like she was yet _again_ missing a key detail. She eyed the commander. "What is it between the two of you? He seemed agreeable enough to me and Maker knows you're hardly one to go picking fights."

Cullen looked at her, his eyes dropping quickly to the king's cloak around her shoulders, before exchanging an infuriatingly _knowing_ look with Fergus. He replied uneasily, "We have a... shared history. So to speak." He wouldn't meet her eye, instead staring off into the distance behind her. Elissa surpressed an eye roll.

Fergus bid her farewell and made his exit with a nod before heading towards the stables. He would want to go for a ride in this weather. He always did. She smiled at him fondly as he walked away. Cullen cleared his throat beside her. 

"Elissa," he seemed incredibly uncomfortable, "I wanted to apologize for my behaviour last-" 

She threw up her hands and cut him off, praying to the Maker her face wasn't blushing as furiously as she thought it was. Discussing this in the light of day felt like announcing some dirty little secret to a whole crowd. And why was _he_ was apologizing to _her_? 

"Cullen, no. You don't have to-" she stammered. 

"I said I would only stay until you were asleep," he continued, clearly ashamed with himself. 

"What?" She shook her head. "Cullen. No. I didn't leave because you stayed. I-" she leaned forward and lowered her voice to a whisper even though no one was within earshot anyways, "I didn't mind that you stayed. I _liked_ that you stayed." She hadn't meant to say that last part out loud but it leapt from her lips regardless.

He seemed surprised and his brows raised in unison. 

_Oh Maker. Strike me down here and now._

She tried to explain herself, frazzled as she was. "I don't like being alone. And I _really_ don't like the dark. It reminds me too much of..." she trailed off and veered away from the topic, keenly aware she was now rambling, "I had a bad dream. I didn't want to wake you, you _never_ sleep, but I needed to get out into the light. We never lit a fire and the candle went out-"

_Just. Stop. Talking._

"I'm sorry. I meant to get back before you left but I lost track of time." She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers until she felt a gentle hand easing her arm down. She opened her eyes to an uncharacteristically warm expression on the commander's face. 

"You had a bad dream?" Cullen's voice was soft and she stared back into his amber eyes for long enough that she could count the flecks of black within them. Suddenly at a loss for words she just nodded silently.

And then every soul-crushingly awkward thing she'd said and done in the last thirty seconds was stabbing into the forefront of her mind and she took a step back from him, waving her hands in front of her like she could wipe away the entire conversation.

"Oh, _Maker's Breath_ ," she muttered. The corner of his lip was pulling into a small smile and she glowered at him, pointing a finger at his chest. "It never happened. None of it. _And we will never speak about it again._ "

She fled back inside. 

* * *

Cullen watched her go, his small smile remaining in place. He had imagined that conversation going _very_ differently. Seeing her so flustered was remarkably endearing. The woman had killed an archdemon but floundered trying to explain that not only had she not been angry he stayed but that she _liked it._ He shrugged his mantle back on to his shoulders, allowing himself to ignore thoughts of the king for the moment, and turned towards approaching footsteps from the base of the stairs. 

It was an Inquisition scout, one of Leliana's men. He saluted the commander quickly. 

"I bring news, ser."

* * *

"New rifts are still forming," Leliana informed her from across the desk in Fergus' study. "We need to address the Breach sooner than later."

Her advisors had asked whether or not she would be able to seal the Breach with the ability she had gained since falling out of the Fade but she had been forced to admit she couldn't control it. She had tried, and failed, to conjure the power that had come to Cullen's aid against the armoured demon. Whatever had lent her that power wasn't about to let her use it on a whim, so they needed another source, one hopefully a bit more reliable.

"I've granted the Rebel Mages sanctuary in Redcliffe. They would certainly be able to provide the aid you're looking for." Alistair spoke from the far side of the table. The ease with which he had spoken to her earlier was gone now, replaced with the distance of formality. Whenever she looked at his face he averted her eye.

"The Templars at Therinfal Redoubt would be able to help just as well," Cullen interjected.

Alistair leveled his gaze on the commander and frowned. "You've recieved the same reports I have about the Lord Seeker's visit to Val Royeaux. They openly dismissed allying with the Inquisition and pulled out of the city, leaving it defenseless. You would go to _them_ for help?"

"You think the mage rebellion is united? It could be ten times worse." He began to pace along the side of the room. Elissa knew how Cullen felt about mages and wasn't surprised he didn't want to go to them for help. "Besides, not all the Templars will stand behind the Lord Seeker. They will come to our side, as others have already," he continued impatiently.

"And you think the Templars will be enough to seal the Breach?" The king obviously believed otherwise. 

"The Order was _founded_ to fight magic," Cullen retorted with rapidly fraying patience. "Weren't you trained as a Templar? You should know this better than most."

"I did, which I why I know better than most why throwing an unharrowed apostate into their midst _isn't a good plan_ ," Alistair snapped at the commander. 

Elissa watched the two men as they argued back and forth, trying to decide if she should step in. This was quickly becoming heated but she doubted she had the authority to chastise either of them, both respected leaders in their own right. She looked at Leliana. The woman had remained silent, observing the pair with an impassive expression, keeping whatever opinion she had on the matter at hand to herself.

"Some of the rebel mages may be responsible for the Conclave. You would send her into their clutches? Redcliffe is a fortress, we'd never get her out alive if _anything_ went wrong." Cullen growled.

"The same could be said for the Templars. The mages rebelled to _resist_ the Templars, and that was before the Order lost its senses and exiled itself from the Chantry. I will not allow you to send her into danger so blindly." Alistair spat back.

"You have no authority to decide anything within the Inquisition, _your Majesty,_ " Cullen replied curtly, his amber eyes ablaze as he glared at the king.

" _Maker_ ," she muttered under her breath, unable to listen anymore. When this arguement had somehow become about _her_? Elissa braced herself and raised her voice to a shout, " _Enough_!" 

Cullen flinched and looked at her as though he had forgotten she was in the room. The king continued to not meet her eye, instead casting a scathing glare at the commander before turning his gaze down towards the table and biting back whatever he had been about to say to Cullen.

"You're bickering like ornery old men," she continued, hoping her voice didn't betray the fear she felt at speaking to the pair like this. "It isn't getting us anywhere."

Leliana finally spoke up. "What would you like to do, Elissa? Either choice has its dangers."

All eyes turned to her and she hesitated. What _did_ she want to do? She knew the power mages had at their fingertips having experienced it herself, but she also knew what could happen if mages went too far. She suppressed a shudder as images of Kinloch Hold floated through her mind. The Templars had their own merits, no threat of demonic possession ranking highly among them. But would they even listen? The Lord Seeker had already denounced their fledgling organization, there was a good chance he would just ignore them outright. Meanwhile the King of Ferelden was suggesting the Rebel Mages. Surely they would listen to anyone approaching them on advice of a king, especially one currently offering them sanctuary. She decided it was as good a plan as any.

"Redcliffe," she said with what she hoped sounded akin to confident authority despite her uncertainty. "We will go to the Rebel Mages."


	13. Farewells

She was playing happily with her favourite doll. It was a little stuffed replica of the Hero of Ferelden, adorned in her mighty Grey Warden amour, though this plate was made of soft cotton. She was sitting on a furry rug, the heat from the hearth warming her back as she played. She was fighting monsters. Her mother and father had never explained to her what the Hero had actually faught so she had been forced to create her own monsters. Today it was the family cat, Mittens. The animal had hissed at her this morning and had been swiftly downgraded from beloved pet to ferocious villain. 

"Begone, beast!" she shouted, earning a look from her parents sitting nearby and another hiss from Mittens, who promptly stood and left to find a quieter place to nap. She held her doll into the air in victory but as she did the stitching ripped and stuffing began to erupt from the Hero's stomach. 

"No!" she cried, devastated by this turn of events. Her mother was at her side in a moment, gently trying to take her doll from her.

"Sweetheart, it's just a little tear. We can stitch her up good as new. Let me see," her mother coaxed softly.

"No!" she repeated, trying to wrench the doll from her mother's grasp, furthering the rip and more stuffing fell to the floor.

"No! NO! _NO_!"

The hearth behind her erupted with flames, the warmth at her back turning quickly to heat so powerful it was almost hurting her. Her mother recoiled from her, exchanging a frightened look with her father.

* * *

Elissa woke with a start, still feeling the phantom heat against her back as the strange dream began to fade. She rubbed her eyes and rolled from her empty bed. She had spent the night alone but had been sure to have a strong blaze alive in the hearth before she crawled under the blankets. Not that she would have even dared ask the commander to stay with her until she fell asleep again, but he hadn't given her a chance to ask. He seemed upset she had made the decision to go to Redcliffe instead of approaching the Templars for aid. Cullen had left Fergus' study quickly, followed by the king. Now both of them seemed to be avoiding her.

Elissa was disappointed her visit to Highever was over almost as soon as it had begun. They had decided to leave the very next morning following her decision to seek out the Rebel Mages. The Breach could not wait. 

She dressed quickly and navigated her way towards the main hall where Leliana was already waiting, talking with a stranger. Elissa nodded to the spymaster who gestured to the young man before her, "You have a visitor."

" _I_ do?" Elissa replied curiously, turning to him.

"Cremisius Aclassi," he introduced himself, "Of the Bull's Chargers mercenary company."

Elissa raised an eyebrow at that. "And how can I help you, Cremisius Aclassi?"

"We got word of some Tevinter mercenaries gathering not far from here along the Storm Coast. My company commander, Iron Bull, offers the information free of charge. If you'd like to see what the Bull's Chargers can do for the Inquisition meet us there and watch us work."

"What the Bull's Chargers can do for the Inquisition?" she repeated, intrigued.

The young man nodded before continuing. "Iron Bull wants to work for the Inquisition. He thinks you're doing good work. He's also very curious to meet the Hero of Ferelden, as are we all," he added, tilting his head to her respectfully.

Elissa smiled politely and glanced at Leliana who only shrugged and said, "I have heard the name. They are based mainly out of Orlais and Nevarra, and not without skill. If you would like to go it's on our way to Redcliff." She turned to fix Cremisius is a deliberate stare before adding, "I'm interested to meet this Iron Bull myself." She did not elaborate and the man only nodded in reply.

"Then we'll meet with this company commander of yours," Elissa decided. When had she become the person making decisions? "We will be heading out shortly, if you'd like to join us."

Cremisius only shook his head. "Thank you, but I'll travel faster alone. I should be getting back anyways. It was a pleasure to meet you Herald, I'll see you soon." He then nodded to both of them and marched out of the hall.

Elissa watched him go before turning to Leliana. "What did he just call me?"

"Herald," she replied simply, her mouth curling slightly upwards. 

Elissa scrunched up her nose. " _Herald? Why?_ "

"It's what people have taken to calling you. _The Herald of Andraste._ " The red haired woman shrugged as Elissa pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers. "You returned from the dead. Many believe you to be sent back to us by Andraste herself."

" _Maker's Breath,_ " Elissa muttered. "Just what I need. _Another title_."

* * *

Elissa had said farewell to Fergus reluctantly. She didn't want to leave yet, not when she had only just gotten him back after believing him to be dead. No doubt he felt similar feelings as he hugged her goodbye tightly, but they were both accustomed to duty being the children of a Teyrn. He had promised to write and both had ignored the topic of when they would see each other again: it may very well be months, if not years. If _ever_ she had thought darkly, the Inquisition had hardly been the safest place. Between the Breach, the demons and the warring mages and templars she had faced more danger in the past few weeks than many would in a lifetime. She had quickly pushed the thoughts aside. 

She was adjusting her saddle in preparation for their departure when she heard footsteps approaching behind her. She turned, surprised to see the King of Ferelden walking towards her. She glanced around, trying to ascertain if it was someone else he may be coming to talk to, but she was alone in the stables. He must be coming to see her. _But why_? To her immense disappointment he had made a point of avoiding her entirely after their conversation in the gardens. She had so many questions about her past and he had answers but after the third time he had abruptly made an excuse to leave a room after she entered she had been forced to consider that avenue of information closed. Yet now he was striding towards her, his light brown eyes bearing none of the aversion she had seen as of late. 

"Your Majesty," she said warily. He grimaced slightly at the use of his title. He had invited her to use his name, but that had been _before_. She wasn't sure what to make of this version of him now.

"I want to apologize," he said quietly. "You must think me a wretch." He wasn't wrong, but she held her tongue and only stared back. He continued despite her silence. "Commander Cullen and I, we have-"

"-a _shared history_ , yes," she interjected, rolling her eyes and turning back to her horse. She had better things to do than listen to these men bicker about one another.

"Did- Did he tell you that?" came his voice from behind her, sounding a little surprised. She pulled a final strap tighter and checked it was secure before smoothly pulling herself onto the saddle atop the horse and looking down at the king. 

"Yes," she said curtly, eager now to leave Highever and this conversation behind her. "I'm sure your history with Cullen is very dramatic but it has nothing to do with _me_ ," she growled.

His expression was difficult to read. Confused? Pained? ...and now quietly _laughing_? He grinned up at her and she was struck by his handsome features again. "You're right, I've been a real bastard and treated you unfairly. I'd like to make it up to you," he continued.

He pulled out a letter from a pocket and offered it to her. She stared at it for a moment before gingerly accepting it from his fingers. It bore her name in long flowing script, with the royal crest stamped into blood red wax. She gently ran her fingers over the wax, feeling the indents of the mabaris on the checkered shield. She looked back to the king.

"What's this?" she asked, her frustration fading before the wave of curiosity. 

"An explanation of sorts. Leliana told me you have questions and it seems I've botched your chance to ask them," he looked at her softly before continuing, "If you have any further questions for me feel free to write. I'll answer them as best I can."

She held the letter in her hands like a treasure, resisting the urge to tear it open there and now. Instead she eyed the king and nodded in thanks, unable to find the words. This wasn't a conversation she had expected to have this morning. Where had his turn of heart arisen from? He returned her silent nod and turned to leave.

"Alistair," she breathed, catching his attention. He turned back to her, a smile on his lips. "My lady?"

"Thank you," she said earnestly. "This... This means a lot."

He regarded her with a small smile but she noticed a sadness in his light eyes. "It's the least I can do," he replied. He opened his mouth to speak again but then closed it, dropping his eyes to his feet. After a moment he quietly said her name, "Elissa?" She held his gaze as he looked back at her. 

" _Please be safe_."

It was a common enough farewell but delivered with his voice it seemed to carry more weight than usual. She nodded, her expression serious with the silent promise. With that the King of Ferelden turned and left.


	14. The Storm Coast

Elissa had waited until they were on the road before she pulled out Alistair's letter. The king had left Highever at the same time as her group, though he and his retinue had gone East towards Denerim while the Inquisition headed West along the coast. She had watched him in the distance, thinking that the man's mood seemed to ebb and flow faster than the waves of the Waking Sea below her. His sealed letter held answers only he could give, however. She could deal with almost anything for answers about her past. She held the parchment in her hands, trembling slightly as she cracked the seal and unfolded the creases to reveal the neat penmanship within. 

_Elissa,_

_I told you that just seeing you alive was enough and you should know I really meant those words, despite my behaviour. I knew you had lost your memories of the past but I still expected to meet the woman who I faught alongside so long ago. That was cruel of me. I should have prepared myself better to avoid placing you in such a position. For that, and so much more, I am sorry._

_Leliana and I have discussed some of the questions you had asked of her regarding the Grey Wardens and she explained her limited ability to respond. I'll try to answer a few of them now, but take care with this information, it is all a closely guarded secret. That being said, be warned: It isn't very glamorous._

_The Grey Wardens acquire their abilities from the Taint in the darkspawn. During the Joining we consume their blighted blood, tying us to them._ _It allows us to sense them, and to some extent even to hear them, though typically just in terrible dreams. It's an incredibly dangerous process though: not all who undertake the Joining survive._

_The Taint is also a death sentence. As the years pass it takes a toll on the body and the mind. Long before what would have been a Warden's natural end we begin to hear the Calling. Whispers clawing at the back of our mind, growing louder over time. That's how we know the end is near and many decide to go into the Deep Roads and die fighting._

_This curse is also the reason only the Wardens can end a Blight. An archdemon is the corrupted soul of an Old God and cannot die from mortal wounds. That blighted soul can leap into the nearest darkspawn and be reborn unscathed. But when a Warden strikes the final blow that soul is drawn into the Taint within the Warden instead, stopping it from possessing another body and killing the Warden in the process. Without an archdemon to control them the Darkspawn flee back into the Deep Roads. It's the ultimate sacrifice a Grey Warden can make._

_It's the sacrifice you made, ten years ago._

_I must confess that as the only other Grey Warden at that battle I had intended to take the honour myself, but you beat me to the punch. I've lived with that regret ever since._

_You had asked Leliana whether or not you were a Grey Warden still and I'm relieved to say I've sensed no Taint within you. You do not remember life as a Warden but trust me when I say this is a blessing. You are free. And by the Maker, you have certainly earned it._

_I hope this has answered some of your questions. I look forward to answering any others you can think of, to the best of my ability._

_Alistair Theirin_

Elissa read the letter over several more times before she finally folded it back up and tucked it safely away. His words had certainly answered some questions, but left her with a dreadful sense of unease. If she was no longer a Grey Warden that meant she was missing more than just her memories. What else had she lost without even realizing it? Her lack of Taint certainly didn't seem like a terrible loss, if the king's words were to be believed. Perhaps she should be as relieved as he was. _But he hasn't lost so much of himself already,_ she thought. Losing any part of herself, even the bad parts, troubled her.

She stared out at the horizon. Dark clouds were slowly rolling in over the Waking Sea and she guessed they would be upon them within the hour. The winds had changed, picking up as the stormfront approached, blowing salty air inland from the sea. The looming threat of coming rain soothed her and she let out a long sigh as hoofbeats signalled someone riding up alongside her. 

Cullen announced his presence with a deep grumble from his chest as he stared out at the clouds beside her. "Looks like rain."

"Aye," she replied, turning to him and smiling. She was pleased he seemed to be talking to her again and bemused he had decided to break their silence by talking about _rain_. The commander didn't share her fondness for the weather. 

He shifted his focus from the sky to her, shaking his head but he returned her smile with a small one of his own. "You people from the North, you're all the same," he laughed softly, "I'll never understand you." She just shrugged unapologetically, displaying yet another northern trait.

He turned his eyes back to the road ahead of them and his smile wavered before he continued to speak. "So. Redcliffe."

Elissa frowned and took a breath. _Here we go._ "There was no reason to believe the Lord Seeker would even see us. At least the Rebel Mages are likely to at least hear us out." She was not interested in having this arguement again.

"I understand your choice," he said carefully, "Even if I don't agree with it entirely." He cast her a sideways glance. "I'll follow your lead regardless."

She wasn't expecting him to acquiesce without a fight and found she had tensed her whole body to defend her choice. Now she slowly allowed herself to relax. "Thank you," she said quietly. He just nodded, turning back to the road in front of them.

They rode together quietly for a time, just watching the clouds creep towards them. Elissa enjoyed the commander's company, even if it was just an easy silence like this one. She watched him from the corner of her eye as the first drops of rain began to fall, smirking at him as he grumbled about the weather and hunkered down within his mantle. It was hard to reconcile this man before her with the horrors he had experienced in his past. She had seen the aftermath of Kinloch Hold with her own eyes, and with the things her brother had told her about Cullen's involvement in events that followed years later... _Maker, how was this man still alive?_

"Fergus told me about Kirkwall," she said quietly, breaking the silence. 

"Kirkwall," Cullen repeated, saying the word with such disdane it was as if each syllable left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. He turned to face her and his eyes were hard. She grimaced, immediately regretting bringing it up, but he softened upon seeing her reaction and continued. 

"What makes you bring _that_ up?" he asked in a lighter tone, though there was still an edge to his voice. She noted him refusing to say the city's name a second time.

"You just- You just seem to have really, _really_ bad luck, Cullen," she said tentatively, not sure if he was in the mood to joke but she couldn't back out of the conversation now.

He stared at her for a moment before his lip twitched upwards and a big grin slowly spread across his face. It reached up to his eyes, creasing the skin around them and making them bright against the overcast sky behind him. _Makers Breath,_ she thought to herself, _I've never seen him smile like this before._

"Either that," he chuckled, still holding her eye, "Or I'm the luckiest man alive. By all accounts I should probably be dead. I suppose we have that in common, _Herald_."

"Oh no..." she winced, pinching the bridge of her nose tightly, "Not you, too." 

" _The Herald of Andraste_ ," he mused, still grinning as he leaned away from her attempted swipe at his shoulder. "I kind of like it," he continued, quietly chuckling to himself. "I'm sure we could get it stitched onto a pillow or-"

Just then the skies opened with a sudden gust of wind and the rain began to come down heavy. The sounds of waves crashing against the shore below were swallowed up in the downpour hitting the ground around them. Cullen cursed, his grin now gone and Elissa beamed in its absence. She felt like the Bride of the Maker herself had come to her defence.

"Andraste's retribution," Elissa shouted over the sound of the rain at the dripping commander, spreading her arms out wide, "For mocking her _Herald_."


	15. The Bull's Chargers

The rain was persistent. The group had set up camp early that day to allow everyone a reprieve from the weather while Elissa was to go to meet the mercenary company along the coast. Leliana was to join her, though Cullen had admitted he was lagging behind with his reports and needed a chance to get back on top of them. Elissa suspected he also just really wanted out of the rain.

She and Leliana set out in the early afternoon, though it was somewhat difficult to tell with the sun hidden behind the constant rain clouds. They travelled for some time and Elissa wondered if they had become lost even though the spymaster picked her way across the landscape with purpose. As they climbed to the top of the next hill the sound of battle met their ears from down below.

"That should be them," Leliana whispered. Elissa reached the top and looked down. Sure enough she could see the young man they had met earlier skillfully slashing his way through a Tevinter mercenary. There were several men and women locked in battle at the foot of the hill, though one drew her eye in particular.

He was _massive_. Even from this distance Elissa was certain he was over seven feet tall. The Qunari was swinging a great two handed blade like it was made of paper. Except for a single shoulder guard he was bare chested, revealing a broad torso that seemed to be entirely muscle. But most remarkable of his traits were the two great horns protruding on either side of his head. _Iron Bull_ indeed, she mused.

Leliana had pulled out her bow and began to loose arrows against the Tevinters below. Elissa slid down the slope quickly before drawing her blades and leaping into the fray. She hadn't sparred with Cullen in ages and was itching to get her blood pumping. 

The man she had come to meet noticed her immediately, his one eye not hidden beneath an eyepatch following her movements carefully. She had come to see him and his group in action though now it was she who felt scrutinized. She spun and swung low, slashing the thigh of one of the attackers, before plunging her short blade into his chest as he fell backwards. In a flash she was upon another, a well aimed kick knocking her opponent to the ground. Before she could finish them off though, a great blade went through them and several inches further into the ground beneath. She followed the blade up to the large hand that grasped it before turning her face up to the mountain towering above her. The battle around them was over, their opponents quite efficiently slaughtered. 

"Iron Bull, I presume," she said evenly, despite the shock of standing so close to a warrior roughly the size of a small house. 

He grinned down at her. "Yeah, the horns usually give it away," he replied. His deep voice resonated from within his chest as he spoke.

She stared back up to him, blinking as drops of rain fell against her face. With a single hand he pulled his great sword from the ground, and the corpse, beside him. He looked past Elissa and shouted, "Krem! How'd we do?" Elissa jumped in spite of herself.

The familiar young man she had met at Highever shouted from behind her, "Five or six wounded, Chief. No dead."

"That's what I like to hear. Have the throatcutters finish up," Iron Bull replied. He walked away from the carnage and sat on a large rock, turning his eyes back to Elissa. She eyed the people moving through the bodies and walked over to join the large Qunari. Despite him now sitting she was only at eye level with him.

"The Hero of Ferelden," he said with esteem. "I've heard _many_ stories about you." Elissa held his gaze but made no reply. _Fantastic_ , she thought dryly. _Someone else who knows more about me than I do_. "So you're with the Inquisition, huh?" he continued jovially, "Glad you could make it."

Elissa was about to reply just as the young man, Krem, joined them. Iron Bull motioned to him, "I assume you remember Cremisius Aclassi, my lieutenant." Elissa tilted her head to him in acknowledgement and he returned the gesture with, "Good to see you again, Herald." She surpressed the flinch.

"Throatcutters are finished, Chief," he continued, this time directed to the large man seated before them.

"Already?" Iron Bull replied, clearly unconvinced. "Have them check again. I don't want any of those Tevinter bastards getting away. No offense, Krem." The large man chuckled. 

"None taken," Krem replied lightly, turning to leave. "At least a bastard knows who his mother was. Puts him one up on you Qunari, right?" Elissa raised an eyebrow. The pair certainly had an intriguing dynamic. 

Iron Bull turned to her as Krem left. "So," he began, "You've seen us fight."

"Your Chargers seem like an excellent company," she admitted freely, though she was more interested in the man before her.

"They are. But you aren't just getting them. You're getting me. You need a frontline bodyguard, I'm your man. Whatever it is. Demons. Dragons. The bigger the better. We're expensive, but we're worth it."

Elissa eyed him warily, "And just how much would this be costing me?"

He waved his hand dismissively, "Not you personally. The Inquisition. Your ambassador, Josephine. She would handle it all."

Leliana appeared at Elissa's side having rejoined the group. She narrowed her eyes at the Qunari. "You're very well informed for a mercenary company," she said bluntly. 

Iron Bull beamed at her. "That we are," he said, "There's a reason for that. Might be useful. Might piss you off." He eyed Leliana before speaking to Elissa. "Ever hear of the Ben-Hassrath?"

Elissa turned to Leliana who held her mouth in a hard line. Clearly she had, though the name was foreign to Elissa and she shook her head.

It was Leliana who spoke up. "They are a Qunari organization which many believe to be the equivalent of their guards or city watch. Though it's more than that, no?" The question was directed to Iron Bull.

He nodded. "I'd go closer to spies, but yeah. That's them. Or, well- Us." 

Leliana nodded as if confirming her own suspicions and the Qunari continued, "The Ben-Hassrath are concerned about the Breach. Magic out of control like that could cause trouble everywhere. I've been ordered to join the Inquisition, get close to the people in charge and send reports on what's happening."

Leliana seemed unperturbed and continued to watch him silently.

He continued, "But I also get reports from agents all over Orlais. You sign me on, and I'll share them with your people." Leliana's eyes lit up at that though Elissa was dubious. 

"You're a spy?" she said incredulously, "And you just... told us?"

The large man only shrugged.

"Aren't you supposed to keep that kind of thing a _secret_?" she continued. 

"From something called _The Inquisition_? No, I'd have been tipped sooner or later. Better that you knew up front. So, what'll it be?"

Elissa hesitated and Leliana turned to her. "He could be useful," she said encouragingly. 

Iron Bull grinned, "I'd listen to your spymaster." Leliana didn't react to her title, probably guessing the Qunari already knew, but Elissa's eyes opened wide. The man shrugged. "I did a little research. Plus," he eyed Leliana without an ounce of shame, "I've always had a weakness for redheads."

"Well then," Elissa says awkwardly. She caught Leliana's eye and the woman nodded to her. She turned towards the Qunari.

"Welcome to the Inquisition."


	16. Redcliffe

The rain had not let up since it had begun, days ago. Elissa loved the rain, she really did, but even she was beginning to miss the feeling of being dry. Because of the dreary weather when they set up camp at night they only set up the larger tents to quickly give everyone relief from the constant drizzle. The new arrivals, Iron Bull and his Chargers, slept in their own tent some distance away. Elissa was certain she could hear the Qunari snoring from her cot even over the sounds of rain. The new tent arrangement also meant she shared a tent with her advisors and didn't have to sleep alone. Given how dark it got at night on the road this was a welcome relief. The spymaster slept silently but Cullen's deep even breathing always helped her to drift off peacefully.

Her dreams had been vivid ever since leaving Highever. Some seemed to match descriptions Leliana had given her about her travels as a Grey Warden. Werewolves and golems and demons, each worse than the last. Others seemed more like regular dreams and focused around her wielding her newfound magic under bizarre circumstances, typically confined within a Circle.

Tonight she dreamt of darkspawn. Before this she couldn't have told anyone what they actually looked like but now she would never forget. Their gnashing teeth and sharp claws bit and tore at her clothing as she faught them back. As she woke drenched in sweat and heart racing she could still feel them on her.

No...

Wait.

This was _different_.

Their claws had been replaced by callosed fingers and instead of tearing at her they seemed to be gently holding her. The gnashing of teeth slowly became a soft voice whispering her name. As she opened her eyes and adjusted to the dim light of a small candle she saw Cullen, crouched beside her cot, his thumb gently massaging circles against her arm now that she was awake.

"Nightmare?" he asked softly, concern etched on his face. His hair was disheveled, as though he had gotten up in a hurry.

She blinked and nodded, suddenly embarrassed. She turned towards Leliana's cot but it was empty. Cullen followed her gaze.

"She's out patrolling," he said quietly. 

She looked over to where he slept and noticed his blanket had been hastily thrown off and his sword lay unsheathed on the ground partway between his cot and her own. Once again he followed her eyes. 

"I didn't realize it was a dream at first," he confessed, "I thought you were in trouble."

She smiled at him, imagining him jumping up in the dead of night to fight demons in his undershirt and breeches. "Thank you, Cullen," she said earnestly, propping herself up on an elbow. "And I'm sorry, for waking you up like that."

He only shook his head. "I've woken from dreams like that before," he explained, his expression growing distant for a moment before focusing back on her, "It's fine, really." He continued to look at her and once again she found herself staring back at the black flecks in his amber eyes. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, which parted slightly as he took in a breath, and she followed the scar running up his from his lip. She had been imagining lifting her hand to run a finger across it when the tent flap opened with a rustle of fabric and a dripping Leliana stepped over the threshold.

Cullen immediately looked away and cleared his throat, letting go of her arm and standing up. He picked his sword up and placed it back into its sheath at the foot of his cot. Leliana looked between the two of them.

"Another nightmare?" she asked to neither of them in particular. 

Elissa nodded, feeling her face flush. Nothing had happened and yet Leliana entering the tent had felt like she had certainly interrupted _something_.

"We could try to find an apothecary in Redcliffe, they might have something for sleeping. These dreams seem to be getting more frequent," Leliana said conversationally, beginning to strip out of her wet clothing. Cullen had slipped back into his cot and faced the canvas wall of the tent as Leliana began to undress so Elissa looked to the red haired woman for an explanation. 

"You have one nearly every night," Leliana explained, "The Commander here has a knack for calming you when they get..." she trailed off, "Unpleasant."

 _Oh_ _no_. She turned back to look at Cullen but he was determinedly _not_ looking away from the tent wall.

_He's been doing this nearly every night?_

* * *

As they began to travel south the weather turned in their favour, the sun breaking out from behind the clouds. Before long nothing but bright blue dominated the sky above them, untarnished except for the Breach that could be seen in the distance floating above the mountains in the West.

Iron Bull had taken to talking with Leliana any chance he got. While the woman flat out ignored his flirtations she did seem keen to discuss information with him, and he happily obliged. Cullen seemed wary of the Qunari though, especially after he discovered his Ben-Hassrath involvement.

As they approached the crossroads between Haven and Redcliffe Cullen had reluctantly offered to escort the Chargers back to headquarters. She knew he obviously wanted to keep an eye on the Inquisition's newest members, and no doubt had a mountain of reports waiting for him back in Haven, though she could still tell he was hesitant to leave the group. She had to admit that she was beginning to feel the same. Having him nearby was quickly becoming comfortable.

As Cullen had turned down the road towards Haven with the Bull's Chargers in tow she had caught him watching her. His expression had been a curious one. You'd think she was riding off into battle when she was really just going to recruit more aid for their cause. That was hardly a cause for alarm but his look of concern had been evident. She had smiled and waved and the expression vanished, turning into one of his half-smiles and a stiff nod before he turned away. 

Later in the day Elissa's party arrived at the outskirts of Redcliffe. The area was a quilt work of farms, though the warring factions of mages and templars had forced most of the villagers to flee. Crops had been left abandoned and in some places entire fields had been burnt to ash.

As they approached the main gates a familiar green flickering light met their eyes. _A Fade rift_. Elissa urged her steed forward into a gallop. A rift this close to the village could mean disaster for its occupants. As she neared she dismounted and closed the rest of the distance on foot, keeping an eye out for demons. 

The grass beneath her feet began to bubble and churn with an otherworldly green glow. Before she could brace herself for the incoming demon it leapt from the ground and threw her down, hard. She thrust her hand towards the creature on top of her but something was amiss. Her magic was still there, but _wrong_. Instead of the usual thrum within her it felt like a flickering candle in a breeze. She couldn't manifest enough to focus it on anything. With the demon bearing down on her she quickly rolled out of the way of its claws and jumped back to her feet, blades drawn. An ache within her skull was threatening to distract her, its spikes of pain coinciding with the lulls in her magic. She gritted her teeth and unleashed her blades against the demon, savagely slashing the monster until its essence floated back into the rift. She turned back to check on her group to see they hadn't moved from where she left them. No, wait, they _were_ moving. She could just make out the movement of Leliana drawing her bow. Elissa raised her palm towards the rift, feeling it tug against her mark. In a moment the rift was sealed.

All at once their movements returned to normal and the arrow Leliana loosed flew dangerously close to Elissa's face. The spymaster's eyes flew wide in shock. "What-" she gasped, "What just happened?"

"You froze," Elissa replied, equally confused. Her headache was gone and her magic had returned to a steady thrum once again. "All of you, moving no faster than sap dripping down a tree."

"We saw the demon attack," Leliana said, dismounting at Elissa's side, "But by the time I shot my arrow the demon was gone and you were standing where it had been, fast as lightning." She looked over Elissa's face, concerned. " _Maker's Breath_ I could have hit you."

"I'm fine," she reassured the woman. Physically she _was_ fine, though she was deeply concerned. _What had just happened?_ "We should head into the village," she suggested, "Maybe they will have a clue what's going on."

Elissa knew Redcliffe had been one of the places she had visited as a Warden and was very pleased to feel familiarity radiating from the village, even though no new memories emerged. She _had_ dreamt of the place, though those psuedo-memories were fractured and muddled and mainly focused on fighting undead.

The view was breathtaking, though. Nestled at the base of great towering cliffs it was clear how the area had earned its name. The exposed cliff face not covered by lush green growth or cascading waterfalls took on a reddish hue, intensified by the setting sun. The village itself had been built from the same stone. While many buildings had been replaced over the years with wooden structures their stone foundations remained, covered in encroaching moss and ivy. In the centre of the village a large statue had been carved of a towering griffon perched atop writhing black corpses. With a small shock she had read her own name engraved upon the base, just between the beast's talons.

The villagers had proven either unable or unwilling to offer an explanation for the strange rift. Many simply claimed to have no idea what she was talking about. As she made her way through the village a small handful had stared at her with shocked expressions before shaking their heads and hurrying along. Furthermore, whenever she asked about the mages seeking sanctuary the villagers grew anxious. They would cast furtive glances at the Tevinters who seemed to be everywhere once her attention was drawn to them. How strange. Redcliffe did have a port but it was hardly one to draw in this many foreigners.

One face among the villagers was different from the rest. She found him down by the docks, staring out at the water. As she approached him to ask her questions he turned and recognition blossomed across his features. 

" _You_!" His eyes grew wide. He took a step backwards in shock and Elissa was afraid he may fall into the lake.

"Connor?" came Leliana's voice quietly from her side. The youth turned to her, his eyes growing even wider as he recognized Leliana.

This took Elissa by surprise aswell. Though she did not recognize the young man before her, she recognized his name. Leliana had told her about the little boy, the apostate son of Arl Eamon, who had been possessed by a demon in Redcliffe Castle. _She_ had saved the child's life, choosing to cast the demon out without further bloodshed instead of outright killing the child. Leliana had commended her on the choice and now the living reminder of her good deed stood before them. 

"By the Maker," he murmured under his breath, "How is this even _possible_? You- _You_ _died_!"

"I don't know," she replied honestly. "I _was_ dead. Then I wasn't. Now I'm here." She shrugged, wishing she had a better explanation, even if just for herself. 

Leliana spoke quietly from her side, "News of her return has been spreading for weeks now, ever since the explosion at the Conclave. I'm surprised word hasn't reached Redcliffe. None here even seem to know about the Inquisition, or her involvement in it."

Connor's wide-eyed awe drifted into confusion. "The Conclave was... _weeks_ ago?" He frowned. "That can't be right." He turned to Leliana, "And there hasn't been an Inquisition for hundreds of years."

Leliana narrowed her eyes, her brows knitting together into a frown. "Something isn't right here. Connor, where are the other mages?"

Connor's stare took on a more serious edge and he lowered his voice to a whisper, eyeing the pair with a sudden excitement, "Have you come to help?"

Elissa exchanged a look with Leliana.

"What is going on?"


	17. The Magister

The windows at the back of the Redcliffe Chantry were a stunning sight bathed in the radiance of the setting sun. The reliefs depicted within the stained glass took on a life of their own as they glowed with what many Chantry sisters had described as a _holy aura_. The artisans responsible for the feat had outdone themselves. The rest of the Chantry was far simpler, though still beautiful in its own way. The stone walls rose into great arches overhead and at their culmination a great chandelier hung from a heavy chain. The dozen carved statues throughout the grand chamber had each been given their own place of prominence, many adorned with flickering candles along their base as tribute. This was where Elissa found herself waiting.

Connor had held his tongue as they pushed him for information regarding the mages, instead eyeing the strange Tevinters they had seen patrolling around the village. He had quietly directed the pair to the Chantry, insisting they talk away from prying eyes, and promised to meet them there later with answers.

Elissa was engrossed with inspecting the Fereldan decor when Chantry door creaked open and Connor slipped in, followed by a dark haired man with a curled mustache. She eyed him warily: his features clearly marked him as Tevinter.

Connor was still regarding her with a sense of awe and reverence but she smiled at him despite the discomfort she felt under his gaze. As she turned to the Tevinter her smile faltered, unsure why Connor would have brought him here. However, the man seemed unfazed by her distrust and gave her a wink when she met his eye.

"Elissa Cousland," he said, grinning. "You're supposed to be dead."

She just stared at him for a moment, thrown off by his candor. A glance at Leliana told her this man was a stranger to her as well. "You know who I am," she replied cautiously, ignoring his second comment, "But who are _you_?"

"Dorian," he said with a flourish, "Of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous."

"I've seen many of your kin in Redcliffe," Leliana said, her flat tone betraying a hint of accusation.

Connor finally spoke up, "He's come to help. The Rebel Mages find themselves in an... awkward position."

Elissa turned her gaze to the young mage, waiting for him to continue. He swallowed while he seemed to be choosing his next words carefully. She was eager to learn what was happening in Redcliffe, why there were so many Tevinters in the village and what role this charismatic dark haired man played in it all.

"They've sworn themselves to a Tevinter Magister," he said quietly, though his words carried dramatic implications.

"They did _what_?" Leliana seemed genuinely surprised.

"The Conclave," Connor shrugged, as though the reason was obvious. "Whatever magic was behind the explosion our people feared would be blamed on us. We were _terrified_. Then the Magister arrived days later, promising protection..."

"And dear old Alexius was all too eager to snatch them up," Dorian added casually, "Who wouldn't want a few hundred mages indentured to them?"

" _Indentured_? Why would the Grand Enchanter agree to such an arrangement?" Leliana asked, her gaze shifting to nothing in particular as her brows knit together in thought. 

"Desperation," Dorian said flatly. "As a member of the Magisterium Alexius has powerful allies which would give even an army of lyrium-addled Templars pause." 

Elissa was eyeing Dorian with growing suspicion. He seemed remarkably well informed for someone on the outside of this mage-snatching plot. The Tevinter caught her look and seemed to guess at her thoughts.

"I used to apprentice under Alexius," he said openly. "He had been experimenting in... unstable magic. _Time_ magic. It was only ever just theory but the mad man seems to have begun testing it out, right here in Redcliffe."

Elissa's eyes grew wide. _The strange rift just outside the village_. As she was trying to unravel the implications of the use of time magic the door to the Chantry opened again and a pale Tevinter poked his head in. Elissa tensed, ready to defend herself though neither Connor nor Dorian seemed surprised by the new arrival. Seeing the others gathered the pale Tevinter had slipped inside and let the door close quietly behind him. 

"You're late Felix," murmured Dorian, though Elissa caught a sliver of concern flash across his face while he spoke.

The pale man just waved him off. As he crossed the Chantry towards their position it became obvious the man before them was clearly unwell. He braced himself before each step, his breathing laboured after only half a dozen stairs. "I thought my father would be fussing over me until dawn. He only just left me to rest." His eyes searched the group until they fell on Elissa, before dropping to her hands. 

"What have I missed?" he directed the question to no one in particular, his eyes locked on Elissa's faintly glowing palm.

"We've just been discussing the ill conceived magic your father has been tampering with," Dorian replied dryly.

Elissa's eyes narrowed at the sickly Tevinter. He looked up from her palm and met her gaze, his expression friendly but weary.

"Felix Alexius. Son of Gereon Alexius," he introduced himself and bowed, though the motion brought on a short coughing fit.

"It's your _father_ who has ensnared the mages? And you're sneaking around behind his back?" She felt herself begrudgingly _liking_ these two Tevinter men. 

"My father has joined a cult. Tevinter supremacists. They call themselves _Venatori_ ," Felix said, anger seeping out in his words. "I love my father. And I love my country. But this? The cult? This is madness. He pressed the mages into his service for _them_ ," he explained, "And he did it to get to _you_."

" _Me_?" Elissa wished she had Leliana's knack for guarding her expressions. Instead her shock was evident to even the stone statues around them as she stared at the weazing Tevinter. "Redcliffe hasn't even heard of my return, why does your father want _me_?"

"He doesn't want you. He wants that," Felix gestured towards her mark. "The Venatori are obsessed with it. My father knew you would arrive eventually seeking aid from the Rebel Mages to close the Breach. He ensured he beat you to it."

"How is that even _possible_?! We only decided to seek out the mages a week ago, but Alexius has been here a _month_!" Elissa exclaimed.

"Time magic," Dorian said mystically, waving his fingers through the air in front of him. "But in all seriousness, don't think about it too hard. You'll just run yourself ragged."

Elissa's mind raced regardless. A Tevinter cult obsessed with her mark. A mark that was undeniably tied to the rifts and the Breach itself. Could these Venatori be somehow involved in the explosion at the Conclave? Did they only want the mages to keep them from her, or did they have more sinister intentions? She stared at her palm and the mark embedded within it. This Magister knew _something_. Elissa was certain.

"I think it's time we meet this Magister Alexius," she said, determination flaring to life within her. She had no answers about her missing memories but she could find answers about _this_. 

* * *

Elissa stepped over the threshold into Redcliffe Castle and felt like she was walking into the maw of a great beast. One thing they had all agreed upon in the Chantry was that meeting with Alexius would almost certainly be a trap. A dangerous one. The magister would hardly allow her to enter with an entourage, having kept the castle locked down tightly since forcing the Arl out. Elissa had questioned how is was even possible Alistair had been unaware one of his Arlings had been occupied by foreign forces a month prior but Dorian had only waved his fingers at her again and muttered about the complexities of time magic. It had been an educational tirade in the sense Elissa had learned Tevinter had a vast vocabulary for curse words. 

Both Leliana and Connor had suggested the Inquisition soldiers could enter through a secret passageway that led into the castle from the village. While Elissa distracted the magister it was unlikely their entry would be noticed, until it was too late. Dorian had insisted on coming with her to meet with Alexius and so it was with him by her side that she entered the main hall.

The Tevinter Magister sat upon the Arl's seat staring at Elissa with thinly veiled malice as she crossed the great stone chamber. Felix stood to his side. Her footsteps echoed against the walls, the only sound in the room besides the fires that burned within several large braizers. 

"I am Magister Gereon Alexius," he said briskly, glancing quickly to the hand hanging at her side before looking back at her. He blatantly ignored Dorian entirely. "And you are the returned hero. The one from the Fade? Interesting..." he trailed off. His voice held an ominous cadence that made her skin crawl.

"I understand you've assumed control of the mages seeking sancuary in Redcliffe," she replied, the disdain she felt for the magister giving her words a biting edge. "I've come seeking their aid to close the Breach."

"I'm sure we can work out an arrangement that is equitable for all parties," he replied with his unsettling voice. She considered ending this charade here and now but she knew Leliana and her team wouldn't be in place yet. 

"You know, I've been here before," she began, briefly glancing around, "Right in this very room." She tapped her foot against the stone, sending out echoes against the walls. "Back then a different monster had taken over the castle." 

He glared at her but she just smiled before continuing in a whisper that easily crossed the hall in its silent state, "I defeated that monster."

As Alexius stood in a rage she watched Dorian tense at her side and Felix stepped forward. "She knows everything, Father."

Alexius spun to face his son, "Felix! _What have you done_?"

Elissa spoke for him, "Your son is concerned you're involved in something terrible."

Alexius rounded on her, turning from his son. "So speaks the _thief_. Do you think you can turn my own son against me? You walk into my stronghold with your stolen mark, a gift you don't even understand, and think you are in control?" He glared at her with a furious anger. "You're nothing but a _mistake_."

Elissa narrowed her eyes at him, "And what would you know of _my_ mark?" The angrier he got, the more he talked. 

"It belongs to your betters. You wouldn't even begin to understand," Alexius spat.

"Father, listen to yourself! Do you know what you sound like?" Felix pleaded. 

"He sounds exactly like the sort of villainous cliche everyone expects us to be," Dorian said, his light tone at odds with the atmosphere in the chamber. 

Alexius finally acknowledged the mage at her side. "The Elder One has power you wouldn't believe. He will raise the Imperium from it's own ashes."

"That's who you serve?" Elissa interrupted. "Did he cause the explosion at the Conclave? Is he a mage?"

"Yes," Alexius replied with his previous ominous cadence, "And soon he will become a god. He will make the world bow to mages once more."

"Alexius," Dorian implored the magister, "This is exactly what you and I talked about _never_ wanting to happen. Why would you support this?"

"Stop this," Felix pleaded for his father to see reason. "Give up the Venatori. Let the southern mages fight the Breach and _let's go_ _home_."

"No," Alexius turned to his son, his voice suddenly thick with emotion, "It's the only way Felix, _he_ can save you."

As if being reminded of his real purpose reignited his determination Alexius turned back to Elissa and Dorian. "Seize them Venatori!" he shouted, "The Elder One demands it!"

Except there were no more Venatori left to follow his orders. Leliana's team had already cleared the hall, picking the Venatori guards off one by one from stealth. The magister had simply been too distracted to notice. The plan had been a resounding success. 

"Your men are dead, Alexius." Elissa stated the obvious but hoped it would help the man see reason. Faintly, she thought she heard the sound of marching drawing closer to the main hall.

"You are a _mistake_ ," the magister shouted with vehement fury, "You should _never have returned_!"

As he pulled something from his pocket it began to glow and Dorian shouted, hurling his own magic against it. As it hit the glowing object, which Elissa could now see was an amulet, a vortex of swirling light erupted from it. She began to take a step back to put some distance between her and the strange magic but the hall disappeared. 

As her foot returned to the ground she found it submerged in several inches of water. The braizers of the main hall were gone, along with their soft orange glow. The room she found herself in now was only lit by a great jutting fragment of red lyrium which seemed to have erupted through the stone wall to her side. It cast everything around her in it's reddish light. She was in a small room, empty save for the lyrium fragment, herself and Dorian who had just narrowly caught his balance before tumbling into the water at their feet upon their arrival. 

"What just happ- _ARGHHH_!"

She fell to her knees as pain ripped through her head. Her hands reached up to clutch at her hair, nails digging into the scalp, desperately trying to find the cause of her agony. It felt like her mind was splitting in two. She let out a scream. Then another. In a frenzied attempt to end this she reached for her magic, willing to set herself on fire if it meant _stopping this_.

Except her magic was _gone_. Before she could even attempt to fathom what to do next the pain had vanished, too.

As she knelt in the water with a frantic Dorian hovering over her she dropped her arms to her sides and took in a shakey breath. She stared at the wall with an unfocused gaze, her thoughts returning to her slowly. She felt... empty. Despite the anxious mage's presence beside her she felt _alone_.

Slowly, something came to her. Then something else. Then many more somethings. She gasped and turned her face to Dorian, tears pooling in her eyes. 

She remembered. _She knew who she was._


	18. Always

Alistair marched through Redcliffe Castle approaching the main hall, anger coursing through him. He had _not_ given sanctuary to the rebel mages only to have them offer up the castle to a Tevinter Magister. News had reached him shortly after he had returned to Denerim and he had abruptly set back out to make for Redcliffe, cursing Fiona. 

He was worried for Elissa. She had come here on his advice, despite Cullen's argument to go to the Templars for assistance. If he had sent her into some sort of trap...

 _No_.

She would be able to defend herself. She had survived Redcliffe throwing the unexpected at her once already. _By the skin of her teeth,_ he thought darkly. He approached the large wooden doors to the main hall and shouting could be heard within. He gritted his teeth, cursing Fiona for the umpteenth time.

As the royal guard pushed open the doors he was met by a confusing sight. Elissa was standing at the foot of the steps of the Arl's seat, surrounded by unfamiliar faces. One of them, dressed in Tevinter garb and standing atop the steps, had thrust his arm out towards her and magic erupted from something that flew from his hand. In a moment a vortex of swirling light burst forth from it, enveloping Elissa and a dark haired man bearing a staff standing at her side. Then the vortex disappeared, taking Elissa and the mage with it. 

"WHAT IN THE MAKER'S NAME IS GOING ON HERE!" thundered Alistair, fixing the Tevinter who had cast the magic in a fierce glare. The man only smirked at the king, further fueling Alistair's rage. _This must be the magister_. He reached for his sword and his guard followed suit in efficient unison. As he advanced on the mage Leliana appeared at his side, her bow notched and arrow trained on the man. He was briefly reminded of the last time he and Leliana had had their weapons drawn in this very room, though he would not be making any attempt to spare this enemy's life.

Just then the vortex reappeared and the mage who had vanished with Elissa exited alone, looking significantly worse for wear than just a moment ago. He cast a quick glance around the room before turning back to the vortex, letting out a curse in his native tongue. He thrust an arm back onto the swirling magic, then another, and with a great heave he pulled a screaming Elissa from the vortex. She faught him, trying desperately to escape his grasp and return to the light.

"LELIANA!" she shouted, still struggling though he held her firmly, "Let me go- I WILL NOT LEAVE HER!" The vortex then vanished once again with a crack and she turned her fury on the mage, unleashing a string of curses he hadn't heard since he faught at her side against the darkspawn. The magister had watched their return in horror and collapsed to his knees, apparently defeated though no blows had even touched him. Leliana had unnotched her arrow and swung her bow over her shoulder as she walked towards the pair still arguing hotly on the steps. Elissa froze mid-profanity-laden-sentence upon seeing the red haired woman. 

" _Maker's Breath_ , Leliana. You're alive," she breathed, moving towards her quickly and pulling the woman into a hug. Leliana wore a look of curiosity as she peered down at the form hugging her so tightly and slowly, awkwardly, returned the gesture. 

"Elissa?" Leliana said quietly after a moment, breaking the hug and holding her out at an arms reach, staring intently at Elissa's face. The younger woman just smiled up at her, tears beginning to pool in her eyes. 

"I can remember," she whispered, so quietly Alistair wasn't sure he heard her correctly. His heart began to beat so loudly within his own ears he strained to listen to Elissa's next words. 

"As soon as we went through the, _thing_ ," she gestured to the space behind her where the vortex had been, "My magic was gone but Leliana I could _remember_. Everything." She looked at Leliana fondly, giving her a forlorn smile. "But it's fading again now and I feel the... _magic_ returning." She splayed her fingers out at her side before clenching them into a fist. "I don't have long. I need you to send a message to Alistair for me. I need you to tell him-" 

She trailed off as Leliana turned to face him. He was surprised to see her usually placid face thick with emotion. Elissa turned to follow the gaze and her eyes fell upon Alistair. His heart stopped. 

It was _her_.

It had always been her face, the one that fell out of the Fade, but the woman who looked at him now was no stranger. Her gaze held such passionate intensity he didn't even hear his weapon clatter to the ground as it slipped from his grasp. 

"Elissa," he whispered. 

She closed the distance between them in a heartbeat and then she was in his arms, her hand caressing the side of his face gently. His hands trembled as he held her tightly to him. He never wanted to let her go.

"You went and grew up," she said quietly, her fingertips following the hair above his ear to the back of his neck. He looked down into her eyes. "And you haven't aged a day," he said softly, leaning his face closer to hers. "Maker's Breath, but you're beautiful."

Her lips rose to meet his and the ache he had carried for ten years fell away. It was as if she had never been gone. As if he had never been forced to say goodbye. Too soon, far too soon, she broke the kiss to look back onto his eyes. 

"Alistair," she said softly, though her tone betrayed grief, "We only have moments." She caressed his cheek with the back of her knuckle as his breath hitched. "Just know I'm still here. I may not remember, but I'm still _here_." Sadness crept into her gaze and he held her tighter to him, bringing one hand up to cup the side of her face.

"I love you," she breathed. 

"And I love you. _Always_."

With that she planted one last kiss against his lips and buried herself into his chest, clinging to him with an iron grip and he clenched his jaw tight. He had said just her being _alive_ was enough, that he didn't need the rest, but he had been so _wrong_. As he held her now, _his Elissa_ , he knew he wouldn't give up. He would find a way, any way, now that he knew it was _possible_. He would bring her back again. Slowly her grip on him loosened and he knew she was fading. Too soon he felt her pulling away and he reluctantly let his arms drop. She tilted her head back up to face him.

She was gone.

The woman before him blinked at him curiously before quickly dropping her gaze. She cleared her throat and stepped away. Alistair felt her absence like an ache. Her eyes roamed around the room and its occupants, narrowing at the magister slumped on the steps, before turning to the mage who had accompanied her into the vortex. 

"What happened, Dorian?"

The man, Dorian, briefly looked between her and Alistair before raising an eyebrow.

"Alexius threw the amulet at us," she frowned, confusion written across her face, "And then I was here." She glanced at Alistair again quickly before looking away. He thought he caught a small blush touch her cheeks.

Dorian shrugged his shoulders. "We fell into the future with the help of dear old Alexius over there," he jabbed a thumb behind him at the magister. "Someone called _The Elder One_ had raised a demon army and assassinated Empress Celene before undergoing full on world domination." Dorian grinned, despite the weight of his words. "His knack for decorating was _abysmal_."

"Empress Celene was assassinated?" Leliana had regained her composure and arched a single eyebrow at the mage.

"Oh!" His eyes widened as he looked at her, "You were there, too. Terribly handy with a bow." He looked at Leliana appraisingly before continuing. "But yes, the Empress was quite dead."

Elissa shook her head. "I don't- I don't remember _any_ of that." She looked so fragile that Alistair was about to pull her back into his arms when a slight elf entered the hall. With great effort he turned from the woman before him and leveled the elf in an angry gaze. "Grand Enchanter." His voice was hard. "Imagine how surprised I was to discover you had given Redcliffe Castle away to a Tevinter Magister."

"King Alistair-" Fiona said quietly, though he didn't give her a chance to continue.

"-Especially since I'm fairly sure Redcliffe belongs to Arl Teagan."

"Your majesty, we never intended-"

"I know what you intended," he growled, though he caught himself and softened his words. "I wanted to help you. But you've made it impossible." He lamented what he must do next but he hoped it would help Elissa's cause. "You and your followers are no longer welcome in Ferelden."

"But," Fiona stammered, "We have hundreds who need protection. Where will we go?"

At this Elissa interjected, casting a glance at Alistair. "I should point out that we did come here for mages to help close the Breach."

Fiona eyed Elissa and hesitated. "You would have us join the Inquisition?"

"I'd take her offer if I were you," Alistair said, his voice hard again. "One way or another you're leaving my kingdom."

Elissa shot Alistair another look before she gave Fiona a reassuring smile. "Assuming you don't try to hand us over to any Tevinter Magisters," her tone was light but the threat was evident nonetheless, "We would be happy to have you." Fiona only nodded. Alistair let out a breath.

_Elissa had her mages._


	19. Return to Haven

Leliana missed her friend. There were very few she could even apply that term to in her life of secrets and espionage, but Elissa had no doubt been paramount among them. Seeing her again, _the real her_ , had been a shock Leliana hadn't known how badly she needed.

But it had passed.

As much as she wanted to help Elissa recover her memories their days of gallivanting across Ferelden to solve mysteries as they encountered them were over. The Breach was a significant threat, and this _Elder One_ even more pressingly so. It couldn't be ignored, not even for Elissa. She needed her friend focused, and telling her about her briefly recovered memories would only distract her. As such Leliana had ensured that Dorian would keep certain details of his trip into the future with her to himself.

Maker, she _hated_ herself for it. But that was okay. It was just another thing at the bottom of an already extensive list. If Elissa ever did recover her memories the woman would likely never forgive Leliana for withholding the truth of her relationship with Alistair. But Leliana couldn't bring herself to regret her decision. The world needed a hero more than reunited lovers. She had done far worse for much less. She pushed the troublesome feelings down, locking them away with all the rest. There was work to be done.

* * *

The great exodus of mages was going to take time. Elissa had left ahead of the main group, eager to return to Haven and just... _breathe_. The past few weeks had been just a steady escalation of growing responsibility and far too many questions with answers few and far between. She dearly wanted a break, though she knew it wasn't likely to be granted to her. She would settle for just a warm bath, though even that was dubious. Leliana had returned with her, clearly eager to be back in Haven and no longer running her operation from the road. Dorian had joined them, stating that he found the south so charming and rustic that he adored it to little pieces. Elissa had been happy to have him along. The king was to remain in Redcliffe to oversee the exit of the mages.

The king. _Alistair_. 

When Elissa gradually came to after blacking out following the magister's attack she had found herself clinging to the cool metal of a chest plate like a rock in a storm. She hadn't questioned it, the whole thing had just felt... _right_. As her memory of Alexius' attack had drifted back to the forefront of her mind she had passively wondered if she had died, _again_. She wasn't worried though, not if this was what death was going to be like this time around. 

However, slowly the sense of _rightness_ about her situation had begun to fade and she slowly became aware that there were arms wrapped around her. As she had loosened her grip against the plate the arms had dropped and she had looked up to see the handsome features of the King of Ferelden staring down at her. That had been a surprise. 

Elissa had been able to peice together what had transpired during her trip to the future, though no one could explain why she couldn't remember any of it. Dorian had simply passed it off as an unfortunate effect of the unstable magic and suggested she just be happy she hadn't returned a drooling invalid. 

Alistair had come to Redcliffe following reports finally reaching him about the magister. Elissa had begun to ask why word took so long to reach Denerim and how the king had covered so much distance so quickly when Dorian had just waved his fingers at her again mouthing out ' _time magic.'_ The question had died on her lips. 

After Fiona had left to inform her mages of their new arrangement and the magister had been squared away in the dungeon the king had apologised profusely to Elissa. The man had seemed genuinely rattled. She assured him she was fine, that despite the complications it had all worked out as she had hoped in the end: she had the mages she had come for. It did little to settle him. She kept catching him staring at her like he was waiting for her to... she didn't even know. Yell at him? Suddenly burst into tears? She had eventually just ignored the glances altogether, beginning preparations with Leliana for their return to Haven. 

It wasn't until after she had left Redcliffe behind that she remembered the king's letter. There wouldn't have been time for her to discuss its contents with him anyways, they had left quickly following the acquisition of the mages, but she could have at least _thanked_ him for it. The slip nagged at her mind all the way to Haven.

As they had arrived back in the tiny-settlement-turned-sprawling-encampment she was shocked to see how much it had grown in her absence. It was her understanding only three weeks had passed since she initially left for Highever but the Inquition had swelled to easily twice its size in that time, and the mages hadn't even begun to arrive yet. She was also surprised that even after being back to Highever returning to Haven felt like coming _home_. Her family's estate had lacked the sense of comfort this sprawling little Chantry village held for her.

As she rode towards the stables she saw Cullen stepping out of the barracks to investigate the new arrivals. As his eyes fell on her she could have sworn he looked relieved, even from across the distance. By the time she and Leliana had passed their mounts off to the stablehands Cullen had come to join them, his warm breath turning into little clouds of steam in the air.

"You're back," he said with another cloud escaping his lips. His eyes looked between them all, slightly narrowing at Dorian before resting back on her, "How did it go?"

"The Rebel Mages have joined the Inquisition," Elissa replied with a waning smile. Maker, she was exhausted. She idly wondered if she would be able to organize a warm bath for herself after all.

"After releasing them from the clutches of a Tevinter Magister who may or may not have been involved with the destruction of the Conclave," Leliana added conversationally, pulling a satchel from her horse. Elissa grimaced. She had hoped to not be present for this bit. Cullen had been steadfastly against going to Redcliffe and had pushed to ask the Order for help instead. He would not be happy.

And he wasn't. " _What_?" he growled, his voice sharp. His eyes shot a glance at Dorian.

"I'll explain in the Chantry," the spymaster said, unaffected by his anger even as Elissa wilted, "But I think the Herald needs a rest." Leliana turned to Elissa. "I can fill the others in, you should get some sleep. You look like you're about to drop."

Elissa could kiss her. She subdued her grin into a sombre one before nodding and letting out a very real and perfectly timed yawn. 

As they moved up the hill towards the Chantry the very charismatic Dorian introduced himself to the commander. Cullen seemed entirely distracted though. He completely missed the mage's appraising look and only tilted his head towards him in acknowledgement once he realized the man had finished talking. As Elissa veered away from the group towards her room Cullen paused. 

"I'll catch up shortly," he murmured before turning to follow Elissa. Dorian watched him go with a raised eyebrow before his eyes slid sideways to Leliana. The woman ignored him and continued up the steps. 

As Elissa reached her door she pushed the latch with a creak and stepped inside. The air within her little house was stale from disuse. The hearth hadn't been lit for weeks and while the walls blocked the icy winds the roof kept the warmth of the sun away aswell, leaving the room just as cold as the winter's day beyond it. She turned after she crossed the threshold and held the door open in silent invitation for Cullen to follow. Sharing a tent while they travelled had left her accustomed to Cullen being in her space, and her room in Haven was no different. He stepped in, ducking his head down to avoid hitting the doorframe. She wordlessly closed the door behind them and crossed the room to the hearth as Cullen spoke.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly. 

She kneeled before the fireplace as she placed several logs atop one another, trying to keep herself from getting covered in ash and soot. She ignited the wood with a small gesture, heat and flickering light immediately spreading out into the room. She sighed, thinking she had celebrated getting out of this conversation too soon and jinxed it. She replied without facing him, speaking instead to the flames. "Listen, it really wasn't that bad, and we _did_ get the mages-"

"That's not what I asked," he interrupted softly. "I asked if _you_ are alright."

Elissa turned and looked up at Cullen standing above her like a statue in the middle of the room. His features were knit with concern, not unlike his face had been when she awoke with him crouched beside her after the nightmare. _It wasn't just the one nightmare_ , she reminded herself. As she rose from the floor his eyes followed her.

"I..." she trailed off. _Was_ she alright? She had really thought she had it all under control. Her life was chaotic and the stakes were frighteningly high, to be sure, but this wasn't anything she hadn't handled before, right? She may not remember it all but she had done it. She was still that person. She wanted to say she was alright, that being the sole person to bear the mark capable of sealing these dangerous rifts was alright, that everything going on around her was _alright_. Except she couldn't, not when he was standing there looking at her like _that_. But she couldn't admit it, not to herself and certainly not to him. So instead she just nodded, clenching her jaw tightly to keep the emotion that stirred under his soft gaze from flooding her eyes.

He didn't believe her for a moment. He closed the distance between them slowly, as though he was approaching a wounded animal, and gently pulled her into a hug. She stood against him stiffly, determined to keep herself together but as he whispered soothing noises into her hair she felt that determination give way. She relaxed into the embrace and reached her hands up his back to press her palms into his broad shoulder blades, her fingertips clenching at the fabric of his mantle. 

She didn't move to break the embrace for a few minutes, just enjoying to feeling of another body's warmth against her own. It faught off her loneliness like a torch chased away the darkness. His concern had an ambiguous effect on her. On one hand it gave her lease to simply be _normal_ and allow herself to feel the grave reality of her situation. On the other hand it gave her the strength to be a woman worthy of that concern. 

"What do you need?" he asked softly into her hair.

"Honestly," her voice hitched slightly as she spoke and she had to collect herself before she continued. She was scared, she was _beyond_ scared, but she could handle it. She wasn't alone. She smirked into his chest. "I really need a warm bath."

She felt his body shake gently as he chuckled softly. "I'll see what I can do about that," he whispered, and she could hear the smile in his voice. 

"Thank you, Cullen" she said quietly. When she did pull back he let his arms drop without resistance. She looked back into his face and smiled. "I _am_ alright, really."

His amber eyes searched her own for a moment, but finding nothing in them to contradict her words his face relaxed into an easy half smile.

"Let's get you in that bath then," he said with single-minded focus. As he finished speaking his eyes grew wide. "I- I didn't mean," he stuttered, "Of course I wouldn't be- _be present_. For the bathing. _Oh Maker's Breath_." He covered his face with his palm, though she saw the red that reached his cheeks, and he spoke through his hand. "I'll take my leave now."

Elissa had brought her own hands up to her mouth to stifle the laugh that had almost fallen out. She didn't want to tease the man, not right now at any rate. As she watched the commander duck out of the little house she grinned from ear to ear, for the first time in days.


	20. New Arrivals

Elissa's bath had been just what she needed. Shortly after the commander left servants had arrived bearing steaming buckets of water, pouring them into the tub in a small alcove of her tiny house. As she gingerly tested the temperature with a chilly toe she delighted at the sensation. She slipped beneath its rippling surface allowing the warmth to swiftly begin to leach away the soreness of her muscles. She sunk down into the water until just her nose and mouth stayed above and the sounds of the bustling camp outside faded away. She had magically kept the bath heated until long after it should have lost its warmth. When she did eventually leave the water had left her skin flushed pink from head to toe, her digits had all pruned and she felt utterly cleansed and at peace.

As she crawled into the nest of blankets on her bed and began to drift off she thought of Cullen's gentle voice whispering softly into her hair. Just as she fell asleep she imagined looking up into his face but it was the light brown eyes of the King of Ferelden who gazed down back at her...

* * *

When Elissa awoke the next morning she was immediately aware of another presence joining her in her room. Her eyes flashed open instantly alert and she felt her magic thrumb in defensive anticipation. 

An elf was perched on the bottom post of her bed, not unlike a frog with her hands gripping the post between her feet. She was staring intently at Elissa. Her short blonde hair was shaggy and had the distinct appearance that it had been shorn with a knife when it got too long for its owner. Elissa stared back at her, confused. If this had been an attempt on her life the intruder could have easily done the deed before Elissa had even awoken. She relaxed a fraction but shifted up against the headboard of the bed. The elf's eyes followed her. 

"You're the Herald thingy, yeah?" The stranger spoke bluntly, her big pale eyes still keen on Elissa. 

"I am," came her reply. She made sure to keep the blankets pulled up around her, cursing her choice to crawl directly into bed without getting dressed after her bath. She hadn't been expecting company.

The elf frowned at her. "You're not glowing."

"Umm... no."

"But you want to fix the sky?" 

Elissa nodded slowly, trying to figure out the curious girl before her. The elf stood upright and stepped off the bed post, landing smoothly on the floor without a sound.

"I'd like to join," she said after a moment of thought and a small nod. 

Elissa just blinked.

The elf turned back towards her when no reply came. "You need people, yeah? _People_ people?"

Elissa had no idea what was happening. "The entire camp outside is full of our people, but more are welcome to join," she said with a shrug. How did this girl get into her house unnoticed?

"No no no no," muttered the girl who began to pace across the room on silent feet. Elissa knew her floor creaked like thin ice over a frozen lake and was mildly impressed this elf managed to keep so quiet. 

"Not _those_ people. The oathbelchers and marchy soldiers and captain sword-face. They are all up here," she said with a hand held up before her. "You. You're way up here," she held her had even higher. "But I mean _people_." She let her hands drop. She let out a frustrated noise when Elissa just stared at her blankly.

"It's like this. There are always little people behind the scenes. Walking about with their listening ears and watching eyes. Maids and servants and _people_. Invisible to the knobs up high. They know things. They're my friends."

"Your friends."

"Yeah. The Friends of Red Jenny."

"You're Red Jenny?"

"No. I'm Sera."

Elissa was having difficulty keeping track of this conversation.

"I'm Jenny to my friends. But I'm not the only one. There's others. A lady in Kirkwall. Three in Starkhaven, brothers or something. It's just a name, yeah? It let's little people, _friends_ , be a part of something while they stick it to nobles they hate."

"So here, in your face, I'm Sera. The friends of Red Jenny are out there. I can use them to help you," she paused. "Plus arrows."

"I already have a spy network," replied Elissa warily. 

Sera only smiled. "Not like this you don't."

She turned and walked towards the door. "I'll let you get dressed. Lots of work to be done to get things back to normal and you can't do it without breeches."

Elissa paled. "How did you..." she trailed off as the elf turned back with her hand on the door latch and just winked before slipping out into the cold.

Even though Elissa hadn't actually formally invited the enigmatic elf to join Sera had hung around anyways, taking up residence in the local tavern. She had never seen the girl approach the training area but had spotted her, bow in hand, shooting several challenging targets with impressive skill outside the tavern, apparently to win a bet. Her laughs and outbursts could often be heard eminating out from the building and her ability to hold her drink lent her popularity among the recruits.

However, Sera wasn't the only new addition to the Inquisition following Elissa's return to Haven. On the third morning after the mages from Redcliffe had begun to arrive another stranger appeared. 

The carriage that pulled up was ornate, clearly an Orlesian design. The woman that had emerged from it was even more so. She wore intricate robes with an extravagant collar that reached up past her ears. The delicately carved span of wood affixed to her back announced her as a mage. As she stepped out into the cold she showed no signs of chill despite the lack of warmth the clothing she wore provided.

Elissa was down in the smithy dropping off materials she had been out that morning collecting for the blacksmith. When she stepped out from under the pavilion the mage's eyes had found her and she strode towards her with purpose, a small following of similarity dressed mages in her wake.

"Herald," she said as she reached Elissa with a little curtsey. Her voice rang clear with the cadence of Orlesian nobility. Elissa tilted her head to her respectfully, unsure what to make of this newcomer who was so dramatically out of place in their humble surroundings. "I am Vivienne. First Enchanter of Montsimmard and Enchantress to the Imperial Court. I have come to offer the support of the Loyal Mages to the Inquisition."

This earned her dirty looks from a cluster of mages who had been down near the smithy practicing their magic out onto the frozen lake. The woman ignored them entirely, though a few of her retinue gave them haughty looks.

"With Divine Justinia dead the Chantry is in shambles. Only the Inquisition might restore sanity and order to our frightened people. As the leader of the last Loyal Mages of Thedas I feel it only right that I lend my assistance to your cause."

"The _Loyal_ _Mages_?" came Elissa's reply after finally finding a moment to speak once the woman had finished, "Loyal to whom?"

"To the people of Thedas, of course," she replied conversationally. "We have not forgotten the commandment, as some have," her eyes glanced towards the practicing mages nearby as while she spoke, looking down her sculpted nose at them, "That magic exists to _serve_ man. I support any effort to restore such order."

This came as a little shock to Elissa. She remembered the fall of the Fereldan Circle of Magi. The accusations those bloodmages had leveled against the Chantry and their templars had been the cause behind the bloody revolt. She knew mages around Thedas lived similar small lives confined within stone prisons. When she learned of their rebellion after Kirkwall she had assumed that they had _all_ rebelled. The woman before her was certainly only one of a limited group of outliers. 

"And what can you bring to the Inquisition?" Elissa asked, curiously. 

"I am well versed in the politics of the Orlesian Empire. I know every member of the Imperial Court personally," she began. Elissa wasn't particularly surprised a woman the likes of Vivienne held powerful connections. Perhaps Leliana would know best how to utilize that. 

"I also have all the resources remaining to the Circle at my disposal," she continued. This piqued Elissa's curiosity. As their little operation had grown they were constantly looking to replenish their own resources, and with hundreds of mages arriving from Redcliffe they would soon be in need deeper stores. 

"And I'm a mage of no small talent," Vivienne finished with a polite smile. "Will that do?" Elissa got the impression this woman was not accustomed to explaining herself but her tone had remained polite and friendly throughout her little speech. Elissa also hadn't been expecting such a list, and had half assumed the retinue she had brought with her would have been all she had to offer.

Elissa smiled at her warmly, deciding to accept whatever good would come her way. She was hardly in the position to be picky. "Welcome to the Inquisition, Lady Vivienne."


	21. The Lone Warden

The next addition to the Inquisition wasn't going to be a new arrival as much as an acquisition. Leliana had recieved word that there was a Grey Warden in the Hinterlands. Her spymaster found this news rather curious and had explained that, apart from Alistair, the Wardens had withdrawn from Ferelden months previously. Any attempt to reach them had been unsuccessful. Indeed it wasn't long after they left that the Wardens in Orlais had gone silent aswell. Alistair had no answers. After the Fifth Blight when he took up the crown his inclusion among the Grey Wardens had been reduced to a token gesture: they largely left each other alone. He had recieved no word and was as mystified by the departure as Leliana. 

So a Warden cropping up just under their noses was too tantalizing to ignore. Knowing the mages were still going to take a week or more to arrive Elissa had set out that afternoon with her party for the Hinterlands.

Iron Bull had been forced to admit defeat in his efforts to glean even so much as a smile from the redheaded Leliana and had taken to drinking in the tavern with the elven rogue. Elissa had pulled him along before he drank the entire barkeep's stock. Dorian, despite his claim that he adored the south so dearly, had been all to eager to get out of the little camp after only a few days confined to it. Varric had been pestering her for grand tales of her past though she had had trouble convincing him much of it still remained lost to her. Perhaps some time on the road would inspire him to look elsewhere for stories. 

As they rode through the lush greenery of the Hinterlands Elissa was pleased to discover the warring factions of mages and templars had abandoned their fight. The mages no doubt had been recalled to Redcliffe to prepare to head to Haven but the templars seemed to have up and vanished altogether. Perhaps without a quarry to fight they had simply up and left to return to their own stronghold. What had Cullen said it was called? Therin _-something_? The question puzzled at Elissa for a while but was quickly forgotten as they drew nearer to the last known position of the Grey Warden. 

_Another Grey Warden_. Elissa had been in contact with Alistair since her arrival back in Haven regarding the Wardens and her history with them. He had told her the sad tale of the battle at Ostagar and about Duncan, the Warden who had recruited them both. With the king staying in Redcliffe for the time being his letters reached her quickly and she sometimes even recieved a response the same day. She had begun to watch the skies for ravens out of habit. Learning about her past was something that never grew tiresome for Elissa and she hoped the king wouldn't grow bored of her questions and correspondence.

Elissa was actively trying to keep her hopes in check but the looming possibility of this coming encounter triggering a memory was exhilarating. As they approached a lake she could hear a deep voice speaking above the sounds of a nearby waterfall.

"Remember how to carry your shields. You're not hiding, you're holding. Otherwise it's useless," the gruff voice explained.

As Elissa and her group rounded the edge of the lake she came upon a group of men. All but one were dressed in regular clothes but bearing shields and simple swords and reeking of inexperience. The last man had a thick black beard and carried himself like a veteran of many battles. He held his shield on his arm causally, his other hand griping a long blade while he spoke. As she walked towards the group the man stopped his lecture and turned to observe the newcomers. Etched into his chestplate she recognized the symbol of the Grey Wardens: a griffon with it's great wings spread out on either side.

She locked her eyes on the chestplate as moments passed until eventually Varric cleared his throat behind her. No memories came and she reluctantly turned from the griffon to address the veteran. 

"Warden Blackwall?" she asked, though there was little question who she was speaking to. One didn't just find Grey Warden armour laying around to pick up.

He moved towards her speaking quickly, "You're-" he began but then changed tactics, "How do you know that name? Who sent you-" 

His sentence was cut off as his eyes slid to the side. Not a moment too soon the arm bearing his shield shot out in front of her before it caught an arrow through it. She stared at the barbed tip with wide eyes. That arrow had been trained on _her_. Several desperate looking men had slithered out from the tree line, the marksman already lining up his next shot. 

"That's it," the Warden growled at the arrow in his shield before turning to Elissa, "Help or get out. We're dealing with these idiots first." 

The man swung around towards the attackers and Elissa collected her wits in a heartbeat. She had been reckless, too eager for a memory to reemerge to pay attention to her surroundings. A bolt of flames flew past her at the same moment that she heard the clang of Varric's crossbow and Iron Bull charged head down in a rush towards the man wielding the bow. As he hit the attacker with the full force of his charge the man flew backwards and his screams could be heard as he flew over the waterfall and landed with a sickening crunch down below.

In a flash Elissa had joined the fray, her blades singing as they sliced through air before making contact against armour and unprotected flesh. The battle was short lived, their opponents had lacked the skill to put up much of a fight against the group. Elissa was breathing heavily as she turned back to face the Warden who regarded her now with wide eyes.

"You," he panted, "You're _her_."

Elissa was growing accustomed to being recognized by this point and she just nodded.

"The Hero of Ferelden. The Herald of Andraste. Take your pick," she shrugged. "I'm more interested in _you_ , Warden."

He regarded her with uncertainty and seemed to be struggling with indecision. Eventually he sighed and turned back to his men, driving his blade into the ground at his feet. "The thieves are dead. Retrieve your stolen goods and return to your families, conscripts. Remember what you learned here today." His men looked to one another in confusion before quickly collecting a few items from the fallen bodies and scampering away. 

He turned back towards Elissa as they fled and she frowned. This didn't make sense. She knew the power of the Warden treaties of conscription and that one wasn't simply _released_ from it. "Did you not conscript them into the Wardens? Why release them?"

He eyed her warily and shook his head slowly. He opened his mouth to speak though no words came out and he closed it again.

She narrowed her eyes at him, "Did you already put them through the Joining?" Perhaps a raw recruit could be released but once they had gone through the Joining there was no going back. The man looked at her without a glimmer of understanding. He had no idea what she was talking about. 

_This man was no Grey Warden._

Elissa felt a rage begin to swell within her. Alistair had written to her at length about the Grey Wardens. She felt a strong kinship to this mysterious Order of oathbound defenders that she had once been a part of. She may not remember her time with them or still have the Taint running through her veins but she knew the risks involved and the sacrifice it meant to be a Warden. That life had once been so important to her she _died_ for it.

And this bearded stranger was shitting all over that by pretending to be a part of something he _knew nothing about._

Elissa hadn't realized she had begun to summon her magic until Iron Bull spoke up from somewhere behind her in a somewhat concerned tone, "Uhh... boss? You're glowing."

She felt her fists clenched at her sides and noticed the wind that had picked up in swirling gusts immediately around her, tugging at her loose clothing. Her narrowed gaze had become an outright glare as she looked at the man wearing armour that clearly was not his own. As a credit to his character though the bearded man did not flee nor attempt to defend himself, but held her gaze without flinching.

"Where did you get that armour," she growled, her tone dripping with contempt. It hadn't been a question as much as an accusation. 

"From the actual Warden Blackwall," he said in an even tone, standing tall in the face of her fury. "The man had conscripted me some time ago but died during a darkspawn ambush during our return to Val Chevin."

"Did _you_ undertake the Joining?" she demanded. 

He shook his head solemly.

"So you're not even a Warden," she said incredulously. "Yet you wear their symbol, steal the name of one of their fallen and let the world believe you to be something you are not. _How dare you_."

"The world lost a good man when Blackwall died. I wanted-" he paused while he chose his next words, "I wanted to try and keep his _goodness_ alive. He died taking a killing blow intended for me. It shouldn't have been that way."

At this Elissa's growing rage abated for a moment. Seeing the winds calm and her glow diminish the man continued to speak.

"He had spoken at length about the Wardens and about their ideals. My own history is not something any man would be proud of, but hearing about the Wardens... I wanted to be a part of something like that. I wanted to _atone_."

Elissa's rage continue to settle. She knew the histories of many in the Grey Wardens were usually dark, their conscriptions being a second chance. Such was even the case of Duncan, the man who had recruited both herself and Alistair. Regardless of his past Alistair assured her they had both been heavily shaken by his death having each grown close to their mentor. The bearded man continued to speak.

"But after Blackwall's death I had no proof that he had wanted to conscript me and feared those in Val Chevin would think I had murdered him. So I took his name and let my past be the man who died that day. I've travelled as a wandering Warden recruiter to try and do good in honour of the Warden's memory ever sinse."

Elissa felt her anger drip away. The winds had died down and from the lack of Bull's anxious pacing behind her she could tell the glow had faded aswell.

"Then what should I call you, stranger?"

"Honestly, I've shared a name with a dead man for so long it's become a part of me. With my past behind me I'd prefer to keep the name I've adopted, if it's all the same to you."

Elissa felt unsettled both at the notion of not really knowing who the man before her was and allowing him to continue using the dead Warden's title. However, he had been diligent in living up to the name. Leliana hadn't been able to dig up much on this man but he certainly hadn't been getting into drunken brawls or stealing livestock. And if he had truly left his dark past behind him...

"Blackwall it is then."

"Thank you, my lady," he said with a relieved sigh, letting his shoulders sag slightly as the tension left them.

"Why pretend to be a Warden?" Elissa asked curiously, "Surely you could have done good in other ways without trying to be something you knew so little about."

Blackwall only shrugged at that. "At the heart of it, all a Warden is... is a promise. To protect others, even at the cost of your own life." His gaze was serious and he spoke the words.

Elissa accepted his response with a nod. He wasn't wrong. "I have a proposition for you, if you're still interested in doing good."

He cocked one eyebrow up towards her as he pulled his sword up out of the ground. 

"The Inquisition always needs good men," she said simply. 


	22. Once More Unto the Breach

Cullen watched Elissa ride back into camp with yet another strange man riding alongside her. His gut clenched with a small tug of jealousy. As if competing with the King of Ferelden wasn't bad enough, it seemed everytime Elissa returned after an outing yet _another_ man had accompanied her back. How had this woman _struggled_ to recruit armies during the Fifth Blight? At least the Qunari had been more interested with the enigmatic spymaster and Cullen was fairly certain he himself was more at risk of receiving advances from the Tevinter mage but this newcomer was an unknown. 

Cullen then shook his head with a sigh. No. He was better than this petty adolescent jealousy. Elissa was working herself to the bone gaining the aid this growing Inquisition dearly needed. Her name and reputation alone brought in a dozen of new recruits daily. He wouldn't sink low enough as to lament her effectiveness.

He turned his back on the arrivals to focus on the new recruits he was busy training that morning. They still had a long way to go but had been making noticable improvements. The men were eager to learn and it showed. As he was supervising their sparring he felt a gentle nudge against his arm and looked over to see Elissa had come to join him. A glance over his shoulder saw the rest of her party making their way into the little village, the bearded stranger among them. He looked back to her, a little half smile forming on his lips. 

"Welcome back," he said softly. "I see you've found the Warden."

Her gaze was hard as she watched the recruits practice. "No," she replied, "I didn't. That man is no Grey Warden."

Cullen frowned, confused. The man had clearly been wearing Grey Warden armour, that griffon symbol was hard to miss.

Elissa was eyeing the nearby weapon rack. "Care for a spar? I'm in the mood to hit something."

Cullen regarded her with amusement. "And your first thought was to hit _me_?"

She quickly looked up at him with concern but relaxed when she saw his playful expression. "I'd only actually hit you if you make a mistake, Cullen. Then it's your fault."

He smirked and drew his blade, walking towards the sparring ring. She followed him, drawing her own blades and the attention of several nearby recruits.

 _Maker's Breath_ , he thought as he watched her advance towards him. _I'm in trouble with this woman_.

* * *

Elissa and Cullen made their way to the Chantry following the spar. Their warm breath formed in little clouds that quickly blew away in the cold mountain air as the pair ascended the steps. She had won the bout, though she had the sneaking suspicion Cullen had thrown the match in her favour. A few hits had indeed landed against the commander and she worried they would leave ghastly bruises, if they hadn't already. He had insisted they had been glancing blows and the only way to prove him wrong would have been to tear his armour off to expose the skin beneath. Just the thought had sent a blush all the way to her ears and she had let the matter drop immediately.

Cassandra, Leliana and Josephine were waiting for them in the Chantry's little backroom. The Seeker seemed impatient and paced the back length of the room though she allowed Elissa to explain the situation surrounding the man from the Hinterlands and his curious history of being a " _Warden_." Leliana merely listened politely to the story and the explanation of Blackwall's motivations behind it all. Josephine seemed intrigued. Elissa certainly didn't trust the man but she wanted to believe his intentions to be good. Cullen had listened to everything intently though his expression remained neutral. 

When she finished Cassandra finally stepped back up to the table and spoke briskly.

"The last of the mages have arrived. It's time to return to the Breach."

Any stress that had melted from her shoulders during her spar with Cullen was back the moment Cassandra spoke those words. Elissa's entire body went rigid. This was the moment they had been preparing for. This was the moment she had been _dreading_. She had already tried to seal this Breach with only limited success. Her advisors all believed throwing more magic at it was the key, but what if it wasn't? Her gut twisted into knots. 

_It all came down to this._

* * *

Several hours later Elissa was once again standing in the pit formed at the heart of the explosion that destroyed the Conclave. She stared up at the gaping maw of the Breach that stretched across the sky. The swirling clouds that circled the massive rift still looked eerie reflecting the green glow that emerged from the other side of the Breach. Unsettled, she turned her gaze back towards her immediate surroundings.

Cassandra was busy organizing the mages into position which left Elissa little to do other that _wait_. She checked and rechecked her weapons, ensuring that if another giant demon appeared she would be ready. Cullen stood nearby like a stoic statue, probably thinking the same thing as he observed her fretting over her blades. He stepped towards her and placed a single hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze before Cassandra called on him and he reluctantly moved away.

Dorian fell into the space Cullen had left and drapped his arm causually across her shoulders, watching the departing commander with thoughtful eyes.

"You two seem friendly," he said without his usual glibness. 

"We _are_ friends," she replied, ignoring the insinuation. She pulled her gaze from the commander towards the mage, arching an eyebrow. 

She was a little surprised to see a look of compassion flash across his features before he quickly regained his composure and just winked at her. She hadn't known Dorian long but she had only ever seen him dripping charm and wit, that look had been totally out of character. He turned his gaze back up to the sky.

"So you're going to close this, hum?"

She hesitantly followed his gaze and swallowed.

"I'm going to try."

When she looked down again Cullen and Cassandra were walking back towards her. It was time. She felt a tendril of panic begin to wrap itself around her heart. Dorian, possibly noticing she hadn't taken a breath in several moments, stepped in front of her and blocked the view of the approaching warriors. He placed both hands on her shoulders and leaned down to look her in the eye. 

"My dear Elissa. You've killed an archdemon. Don't tell me this _little thing_ -" he gestured his head towards the Breach above them, "is alarming you."

She held his gaze and slowly let out her held breath with a little smile. He grinned and patted her cheek. "There there," he soothed, "Now, shoulders back. Deep breaths. Can't let the commander see you anxious, he's likely to call this whole thing off and carry you out of here over his shoulder."

Her entire face was crimson as Cullen and Cassandra arrived. The commander exchanged a look between her and the mage. She briefly met his eye but quickly averted her gaze as she felt her ears burn, instead inspecting the buckles along her bracers. _Maker's Breath_ , where was all this sudden embarrassment coming from?

"It's time," came Cassandra's voice. 

Elissa looked up from her buckles, which had indeed all been fastened properly the first time, and nodded at the Seeker. The group moved away from her, stationing themselves around the edge of the pit.

"Mages!" Cassandra's voice rang out against the ruins. 

"Focus past the Herald, let her will draw from you," continued Solas. He had coached her about using the combined power of the mages to amplify her own. 

Tenativetly she held out the hand bearing the mark. It was ablaze with green light, mirroring the eerie glow of the Breach above. She moved towards the center of the blast radius, her progress slow as the mark flared uncomfortably against her palm. As she neared her position she felt herself come alive with magic. She turned to see the mages along the edge of the ruins all bent to one knee, their palms extended towards her. It wasn't quite the same as when her magic asserted itself, which felt more akin to raw unbridled power, this felt more like a polite invitation. It was powerful to be sure, but only in the way it was offered to be used.

Her mark hurt now, like claws trying to find purchase to rip into her flesh, but she pushed through the pain. She lifted her hand towards the sky and let the mark unleash it's augmented power towards the Breach.

Green light exploded around her, bathing the area in otherworldly hues that hung in the air like sheets hung out to dry in the breeze. She gritted her teeth against the resistance the Breach was pushing back with. She pulled more from the mages around her, ignoring the sensation that her palm was burning away, and with a scream she threw everything against the Breach. Feeling the resistance give way against her force of will and with a wrench of her hand she sent the final pulse to close the rift. 

As her magic sealed the sky a shockwave ran down back towards the ground and knocked Elissa forcefully to her knees. Her good hand, the one that didn't feel like charred meat, kept her from falling entirely to the stone beneath her. The shockwave had sent up dust and debris so it was some moments before she could even see her surroundings.

She remained frozen, half-kneeling with her marked palm held protectively to her chest, counting her breaths. The dust obscured everything. She could see nothing and for a terrifying moment feared she was back there. Then hands found her, pulling her upright and holding her steady. A pair of amber eyes looked down into her own.

"Did it work?" she coughed, the dust stinging her lungs.

"It worked," Cullen replied, pulling her into a fierce hug. 


	23. The Elder One

The celebration back in Haven was in full swing when the Seeker found Elissa staring off at the distant scar in the sky. Soldiers and mages alike were dancing around great bonfires and several people had dug out musical instruments to add to the festivities. Even the usual harsh weather had calmed to allow gentle snowflakes to drift down towards the revelers. The atmosphere in the entire camp was lighthearted and joyful.

She had done it.

"Solas confirms the heavens are scared but calm," Cassandra announced. "The Breach is sealed. We've reports of lingering rifts and many questions remain, but this was a victory."

Elissa stared at the sky, she hadn't felt like joining in with the celebrations. "We still don't know what caused this. We can't rest easy."

"I agree," replied Cassandra, following her gaze upwards, "One success does not guarantee peace. The immediate danger is gone and for some so is the necessity of this alliance. We must be wary. The Inquisition will need new focus."

Just then alarm bells began to sound from the foot of the village and Elissa grimaced. What was wrong _now_? The revelers looked to one another in fear and the celebrations swiftly came to a close as instruments were put away and weapons were picked up in their stead.

Elissa huried to the main gate, towards the watchtower that was sounding the alarm. There she found Cullen organizing his troops. He turned to her as she arrived.

"One watchgaurd reporting," he said quickly. His gaze didn't linger on her, nor did his eyes regard her with their usual softness. The man before her was every inch a military commander. "It's a massive force with the bulk over the mountain."

Josephine had also arrived. She hadn't bothered with a coat as she rushed from the Chantry. She stared out at the faint twinkling lights of the force descending the mountain towards them. She shivered, though Elissa doubted it was from the cold.

"Under what banner," the diplomat asked Cullen.

He shook his head. "None."

"None?" she seemed surprised. 

Just then something hit the closed gate from the other side, rocking the creaking wood at the hinges. All eyes turned towards the noise and a timid voice called out from the other side. 

"I can't come in unless you open!"

Elissa approached the gate despite a warning look from Cullen. She didn't have time to explain to him that she held the unshakable notion that the voice on the other side bore her no ill will. She lifted the latch and pushed the door open.

A large soldier in strange armour was standing a few paces away, slightly hunched. His posture seemed... wrong. As he took a step towards her he faltered before falling forward. A blade sticking out of his back explained his strange behaviour.

A figure stood behind the fallen soldier. He wore a large brimmed hat that hid much of his face but from his slight build she guessed he was young, perhaps even younger than Elissa herself. He stepped forwards cautiously and ripped the blade from the soldiers back before tipping his head to look at Elissa. 

"Hello," he eyed her curiously, seeming to look right through her, "To both of you." He blinked and his eyes refocused. "I'm Cole," he said quietly, though his words came quickly. "I came to warn you. To help. People are coming to hurt you. You- You probably already know."

"What is this?" Elissa said hurriedly. _Does he have answers? "_ What's going on?"

"The Templars come to kill you," he replied sadly. His tone seemed at odds with the intensity of the situation around them.

"Templars?!" Cole shrank away from an advancing Cullen, moving to put Elissa between himself and the commander. "Is this the Order's response to our talks with the mages? Attacking blindly?"

Cole peaked out from behind her, "The Red Templars went to the Elder One." Elissa felt her blood run cold.

With a wary look at Cullen the young man stepped back out to face Elissa, meeting her eye. "You know him? He knows you. You took his mages."

He stepped over the fallen body at their feet and stretched a lanky arm out towards the nearby mountain slopes. As she followed his gesture Cole whispered a very ominous, " _There_."

A heavily armoured man had climbed to the peak of the slope, giving himself a perfect vantage of both his advancing army and the sprawling encampment before him.

"I know that man," Cullen said quietly.

Elissa turned to glance at the commander quickly before turning back to the man on the mountain. He wore black armour that seemed to glow with a reddish light, not unlike the red lyrium she had encountered at the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

"He used to be a Templar, though he lost his way," Cullen explained. "Last I saw him he was begging on the streets of Kirkwall to nurse his lyrium addiction. How he's leading an army against us now is... _MAKER'S BREATH_."

Another figure had joined the man on the slope. He towered above the ex-Templar though this creature was hardly human at all. His chest and torso were narrow and covered in a patchwork mix of dark steel, flesh and stretched skin. His broad shoulders were hidden beneath an armoured mantle and two spindly arms hung at his sides. His face was partially hidden beneath a hood though the skin appeared stretched over protruding red stone that emerged from beneath. His eyes found her an she felt the world shudder around her under his gaze. 

"The Elder One," she breathed, terrified but unable to look away.

"He's very angry that you took his mages," whispered Cole quietly. He gently tugged on her sleeve, drawing her attention away from the monster. She turned to the commander.

"Cullen. Give me a plan. Anything."

"Haven is no fortress," Cullen said with a shake of his head. "If we are to withstand this monster we must control the battle. Get out there and hit that force. Use everything you can." He eyed her with concern for a moment before he turned back towards the Inquisition members gathering behind them.

"Mages!" he called out as he paced in front of them, looking each one in the eye, "You have sanction to engage them. They are templars. They will not make it easy."

He turned on the steps and glanced at her again, raising his sword into the air. "Inquisition!" he shouted, his anger towards the invading Templars spilling into his words, "With the Herald! For your lives! For all of us!"

Elissa pulled her eyes away from Cullen and leapt down the path towards their best offense against this force: the trebuchets. Just as she reached the great machines the templars had begun to arrive from the mountain slope but these were unlike any of the Order she had seen before. Glowing red stone grew from their armour, varying in place from soldier to soldier. They moved in near perfect unison, only the terrain caused discord in their movements.

With a growl she threw her magic towards them, incinerating a handful within their own armour. She watched with muted horror as no screams emerged from their helms before smoke leaked out from closed visors and their bodies fell in a heap. She brought down a dozen more though more still poured forth to fill their place. Not one checked on their fallen brothers. As the engineers got the trebuchet into position they called out for her to aid the others who had been swamped by the attacking templars. 

She ran towards the next machine and threw her body against a Templar who had raised his blade towards one of the neighbouring engineers. The force of contact knocked the wind out of her lungs though the engineer had been able to scramble away. As the templar turned to face her she brought her blade up beneath his jaw and rammed it up into the helmet. As she pulled her weapon free the blood that dripped down her blade was more black than red.

The quick distraction had been all the engineer needed to prime the trebuchet. With a quick signal to the other machine both launched their payload against the mountainside above the invading army.

Elissa held her breath watching the great stones arch through the night sky. They blocked the stars as they rose towards the heavens before plummeting down with incredible speed into the snowy slope. The echo of the impact could be heard a moment later and the entire mountainside _shifted_. A moment later it had begun to slide away down towards the templars, the force of the moving snow ripping up entire trees and adding then to the frozen icy tide heading towards the enemy army. 

The Inquisition soldiers around her began to cheer until a shrill scream pierced the air. It sent a chill down Elissa's spine. _She had heard that noise before._ That noise haunted her nightmares. She turned her eyes towards the sky just in time to see a fireball hurtling towards the trebuchet she was standing on. She grabbed the engineer by the back of his chestplate and flung them both to the ground before the machine burst apart into flames.

She rolled to her feet as the shrill scream sounded again and she heard the beat of heavy wings. She turned her eyes to the sky again and this time she saw it.

An archdemon was attacking Haven.


	24. Retreat

The surviving members of the Inquisition had fled back to the Chantry. They huddled into any available space and a few had resorted to weeping quietly. Others held their hands against their ears in an attempt to drown out the shrill screams of the creature flying around above their heads. Elissa practically fell through the door, panting and exhausted from dragging the unconscious engineer all the way back from the trebuchets. The village was overrun. Another soldier collected him from her and she stumbled towards the back room. She could hear Cullen shouting all the way from the front door.

"We are dying here Leliana," he growled, "We can at least make them _work for it_."

"We still have Elissa, maybe she could-" Leliana was cut off.

"We are _NOT_ sending her out there in some reckless attempt to save our skin," he snapped back. 

Elissa had thought she heard Cullen angry with the king in Highever but clearly he had been holding back. _A lot_. She pushed the door open and silence fell as all eyes turned to her.

The entire group of people she had personally recruited, as well as her team of advisors, were crowded around the tables clustered in the centre of the room.

"So..." she said quietly, "What's the plan? Last time I faught an archdemon it didn't work out so well for me."

Sera snorted out a laugh before a stern look from Cassandra silenced her. 

"I'll fight an archdemon," Iron Bull said with an almost childish glee that was markedly at odds with the situation. 

"Of course you would," muttered Dorian from his side before he let out a string of Tevinter curses. She wasn't sure if the words were directed at the Qunari, the archdemon, the whole bloody situation, or all of them equally.

"I saw an archdemon once. I was in the Fade... but it looked like this," Cole said quietly, his eyes moving around the ceiling of the room and she got the distinct impression the curious young man was watching the beast flying overhead outside.

Cullen stared at Cole in exasperation. "I don't care what it looks like. It's cut a path for that army. They will kill everyone in Haven."

"The Elder One doesn't care about the village," Cole said with a shake of his head, "He only wants _you_."

Once again all eyes turned to her and she tried to stand tall beneath their gaze, even though it was crushing. They weren't looking to her now as the Herald, the one who could seal the rifts... They needed the Hero of Ferelden. They needed the woman who had slain an archdemon once already.

Her mind flashed to Alistair. _What would he do?_ He'd done this before too, but at least he _remembered_ it all. Unbidden, his parting words to her in Highever sounded in her mind.

_Please be safe._

She grimaced and turned to Cole. "How do I stop him?"

The young man looked at her sympathetically. "It won't be easy," he said sadly, "He has a dragon."

Her heart sank. 

Cullen let out a disgruntled noise of frustration and ignored Cole, turning back towards Elissa. "There are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them down was the avalanche. We could send men to turn the remaining trebuchet-"

"The village is overrun, Cullen. To hit the enemy we'd bury Haven," she said. Perhaps the commander was unaware of the state of the battle outside.

His look told her he wasn't. 

The door behind her creaked open and a very wounded Chancellor Roderick stepped forward, leaning heavily against the wooden frame. He held his hand to a glistening red stain which was spreading quickly across his robes. The man was deathly pale and his breath came in shallow gasps.

"Yes..." murmured Cole, eyeing the wounded man, "There is another way. He knows it."

The chancellor glanced curiously at the young man before turning towards the group. "There is a path. You wouldnt know it unless you've made the summer pilgrimage..." his words were cut off as he fell into a fit of coughing, bits of bloody spittle leaving his mouth. Cole stepped towards him soundlessly and leaned close, listening. After a few moments the young man turned back to Elissa. 

"He can show us the way. The way Andraste showed him."

If there was even a _chance_ they could all get out, then it was decided. They would need time to escape and she could buy them that time. If this Elder One was indeed just after her then she would give him a reason to stop his attack against Haven. If she couldn't summon her magic she at least had her blades. She didn't need to win. She didn't even need to keep it up for long. Just _long enough_.

She tried not to think about the archdemon. She knew even if she somehow managed to miraculously bring it down she lacked the ability to actually _kill_ it. Not like before. Not like she was now. Alistair had said this information was secret though, so she kept it to herself.

Elissa turned to the group. "Get everyone out. I'll keep the archdemon busy."

Iron Bull let out a grumble but the others simply nodded. A few of them had seen her power in action and assumed if any of them had a chance here, it was her. Only Cullen seemed against the idea. 

"Elissa," his voice was a pleading whisper.

She was afraid to look at him. She knew that just one glance at those amber eyes and her courage would almost certainly fail her. So instead she fixed her gaze on the map spread across the centre table.

Knowing she had stared death in the face before didn't make doing it again any easier. But if this monster was after her, there was no point in her trying to flee. He'd only hunt her down and likely everyone else who had the misfortune of being nearby. No, this was the only way.

"Find some way to signal when you're clear," she said, turning back towards the door. "I'll make sure nothing can follow you." Her words sounded so much more certain than she felt.

She quickly slid out past Roderick and hurried down the main hall towards the front entryway but Cullen caught up to her in a few long strides. He grabbed her arm and turned her back around to face him.

His face was unlike she had ever seen it before. He seemed _desperate_. Concern and fear were etched across his features. He vaguely reminded her of the young man she had saved so long ago in another lifetime, except it wasn't his own life he was afraid for now: it was hers.

"You don't have to do this," he said quietly. 

"I'm the only one who _can_ do this," she replied, keeping her voice steady. 

"We can find another way. One that doesn't-" 

His words were cut off as she held slightly trembling fingertips against his lips, feeling his warm breath against them.

"There is no other way, Cullen," she replied sadly. Her eyes dropped from his as she gave into the impulse to run a finger over the scar on his lip. It felt so much smoother than she had imagined. His hand rose to clasp hers within its gentle grasp and her gaze returned to the black-flecked amber that was watching her intently. 

"Keep them safe," she said as she reluctantly slid her hand free from his. His eyes burned into hers though he made no further move to stop her as she stepped away and turned towards the door.


	25. Corypheus

She walked down into the village leaving smoking corpses in her wake. Her eyes searched the sky until they found the soaring shadow above her and she narrowed her gaze. The creature seemed to sense her and screeched, quickly altering its course to fly at her. Great leathery wings threw up flurries of snow as they heaved the hulking body through the air with frightening speed directly towards her. She stared it down even as her own heart slammed against her ribcage.

 _I've done this before,_ she told herself. _And I did it without magic_. _I. Will. Not. Run._

Just as it came into range it reared back and spit out a torrent of flames which Elissa managed to dodge with a quick leap, though the force of the air beneath its wings as the beast flew past sent her tumbling across the ground like a leaf blown in the breeze.

She landed hard and every inch of her body screamed against the abuse. She pulled herself up slowly, her eyes taking a moment to refocus from the blow. The snow crunched beneath her feet though a fire nearby gave off enough heat to make her begin to sweat beneath her armour. As she looked around she found she was indeed surrounded by flames, several buildings having been reduced to splintered tinder from the fiery breath of the archdemon.

She pulled herself to unsteady feet and turned to look for the beast in the skies again but a figure approaching through the flames drew her attention. Had an Inquisition soldier survived the battle? She started to step towards them but as they drew closer her feet froze into place and her blood ran cold.

This wasn't one of their soldiers.

This wasn't even human.

The creature known to her only as _The Elder One_ advanced on her through the fire and Elissa faught back every instinct that told her to _RUN_. His eyes burned into her with a raging fury that she struggled to look away from.

Before she could even draw her blades the ground quaked violently as the hulking form of the archdemon landed just behind her. She turned quickly, trying to keep both the Elder One and the archdemon in her sights. The dragon's footfalls shook the stone beneath her as it came close enough for her to feel the beast's acrid breath against her face. She was trapped.

She was going to die here. _Again_. She had no hidden magic to fight an archdemon and she lacked the tainted blood to kill it. As she stared down its gaping maw at the rows of serrated teeth within she passively wondered if her meager attempt at a distraction had even been close enough to save the people up in the Chantry. The beast growled from deep within its throat at her and she prepared herself to die fighting. 

The Elder One shouted and Elissa felt a wave of magic move _through_ her and hit the archdemon. It howled its shrill blood-curdling scream and backed away. Its eyes watched her with a predatory gaze though it made no move to attack. It just... waited.

Elissa's mind raced. Archdemons _lead_ armies. Entire massive swarms of darkspawn each under its absolute control. They brought about Blights. They destroyed without conscience. They _did not_ respond like a mabari hound to a harsh word from its master. 

_This beast was no archdemon._

She turned back to face the Elder One as he began to speak. "Pretender," he said in a low voice that seemed to echo within her skull, "You toy with forces beyond your ken."

She could still hear the dragon pacing behind her but she narrowed her eyes at the monster before her. "What _are_ you?" she called out above the flames.

"Words mortals often hurl at the darkness," he said with a contemptuous smirk. "Exalt _the Elder One_. The _will_ that is Corypheus! You _will_ kneel."

"That's bold of you to assume," she growled under her breath. 

"You will resist. You will always resist. It matters not." He lifted his hand, or at least his clawed approximation of a hand, and a glowing sphere materialized floating above his palm. "I am here for the anchor. The process of removing it begins now."

_The anchor?_

The mark flared to life like a burst of flames burning through her palm as he held his free hand out towards her. She clenched her teeth as her vision began to swim.

"I do not know how _you_ came back from the Void, but what marks you as _touched_ , what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very Heavens."

Her pain was momentarily forgotten as his words broke through the agony circling her mind. _The Void?_ But then his hand pulled into a tight fist and her palm erupted in fresh torment. She screamed and fell to her knees, clutching the glowing epicenter tightly in her other hand.

"And you used the anchor to undo my work! The gall!"

He crossed the space between them in three long strides, grabbing her wrist roughly within a clawed hand and lifting her marked palm into the air. He continued to lift until her feet scrambled for purchase on the ground that was only growing more distant beneath them. Her shoulder throbbed from the mistreatment. As he held her aloft she found herself staring directly into the crimson irises that sat sunken within the marred skin stretched across his face. The scarred flesh that surrounded his mouth was turned downwards in a disdainful scowl while he spoke.

"I once breached the Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the Empire _in person_. I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused. No more."

The dragon was pacing along beside her now and she could feel the air from its nostrils as it sniffed at her. So close. Too close. _But it isn't an archdemon,_ she reminded herself.

"I have gathered the _will_ to return under no name but my own. To champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world. Beg that I succeed. For I have seen the Throne of the Gods, and _it was empty_!"

The weight of his words had barely even begun to sink in when she noticed movement behind him. All at once a blade erupted from his chest, the steel glistening with blackened blood that reflected the flames around them. The dragon screeched. She and Corypheus stared at it for a moment in shocked silence before he dropped her to the ground. She fell in a heap as he turned to face his attacker. 

Cullen hadn't stayed with the group fleeing the Chantry.

Corypheus, still impaled though he seemed to easily ignore the injury, towered menacingly above the commander. Elissa saw the blade had pierced through what should have been the creature's heart. If he even _had_ a heart. 

"Gnat," Corypheus growled angrily.

One clawed hand reached out to strike Cullen who braced himself for the blow with his shield. Despite his lack of weapon he wore only a stubborn expression of defiance. Elissa however, was suddenly terrified.

 _NO_.

The entire area was bathed in a brilliant light as her magic sprang forth. She felt the strange familiar presence asserting itself with such a surge that Elissa was being pushed aside by it within her own mind. However, despite the force of its arrival, at the tip of the nearly overwhelming tide she could feel a question. A plea. After a moment of tentative hesitation she let it through, relinquishing control. She became merely a bystander as her body moved with the direction of another. She could feel it though, this otherness that was still somehow _her_ , and it was _furious_.

She leapt with impossible speed towards the hilt protruding from the Corypheus' back and grabbed it with both hands. The entire blade was engulfed in white-hot flames and the hand reaching for Cullen flinched and froze as a gasping noise sounded from deep within the creature's chest. She wrenched the blade free, the force of the extraction pulling Corypheus back a step.

Cullen brought his shield forward with brutal force, bashing it against the smoking patchwork chest and forcing their enemy back yet another step. Elissa swiftly spun the weapon in her grasp and offered it back to the the commander, hilt first. He took it from her reverently, seemingly perplexed that the flames which had scorched Corypheus only a second ago now merely warmed his hands. The dragon screeched, rearing it's long neck back to attack, and Cullen dropped into a defensive stance. 

Her gaze lingered on the commander, admiring the sharpness of his jaw as he faced down the dragon. Internally Elissa flushed. She had appreciated the commander was handsome but she had never looked at him like _this_. Without even turning away she raised up one palm towards the hulking beast, her wrist arching delicately back as her fingers splayed upwards to the sky. As it opened its savage jaws she clenched her fingers into a tight fist and the dragon crumpled to the ground as if held beneath a massive unseen weight. It and Corypheus let out a shared infuriated cry.

"What _are_ you?" he snarled, mirroring her words from earlier in his twisted voice.

Her arm flew sharply to the side and with it the dragon was wrenched away violently. It crashed through several nearby buildings as the ground shuddered beneath their feet. Cullen turned towards her with wide eyes and she felt her face regard him fondly, ignoring Corypheus entirely. 

"Are you alright?" she whispered softly with a voice that was hers but _wasn't_. Her whole focus centered on the commander, despite the numerous dangers around them. Elissa could sense that whatever this presence was, it was _fiercely_ protective of the commander.

He blinked at her and nodded once before turning back to the crumpled heap of dragon in the distance.

Corypheus burst forth with a radiating red glow, his indignant rage apparent. "What you are matters not. I will not suffer even an unknowing rival," he snarled. "You must die."

Her eyes slid sideways to finally look at the monster with an irritated gaze. "I'm not a _what_ ," her voice come out with seething acidity. "I'm a _who_."

As she turned her body to face him head on the winds swirling around her became an outright tempest and the commander had to brace his footing to kept from being blown aside. Once more her feet left the ground beneath them though no force but her own held her aloft. She positioned herself between Cullen and her adversary, feeling her power swell as she prepared to attack.

Elissa had held this power before and had flailed it about with enthusiasm, but the presence in her mind wielded it with precision and control. Raw, primal power exploded forward from her against Corypheus, though whatever hidden magic he possessed braced himself from her bombardment. As she escalated her attacks he retaliated with a vengeance though she was shielded from him aswell.

They were evenly matched.

Elissa had once felt she could bring down a mountain range with this power, that it had been absolute. From her quiet vantage point within her mind she could now tell this power was not limitless. It fact it was draining rapidly.

She could feel the presence was aware of this, too. The flurry of attacks ceased and Corypheus staggered back, his shoulders slightly sagging.

Her eyes were drawn to a small flash of light in the distance behind his mantle. Elissa knew that it meant the rest had escaped the Chantry. That they were safe. She was mildly surprised to feel relief radiating from the other presence. It knew what the signal meant, too. _Curious_.

It was time to end this. 

The plan had been to bury Haven, and the Red Templars swarming within its walls, beneath another avalanche. Unfortunantly the last remaining trebuchet had been destroyed when the dragon had be hurled through it. Her face turned towards the peak above the village and Elissa felt with growing excitement that she was going to get to experience her mountain range theory in action after all.

"Ferelden's paltry little hero won't be enough to stop me. You _will_ kneel. Your whole _world_ will kneel." Corypheus spoke with a voice laced in malice.

She felt herself smile. 

"I'm not the Hero of Ferelden."

Her hand lifted up towards the snowy slopes.

"I'm the Herald of Andraste."

With one small motion the whole side of the mountain shifted, piled snow toppling from trees as they lurched downwards towards the little Chantry village.

"And my name is Evelyn Trevelyan."


	26. Cold

Cullen stared at the snowy peaks above Haven as the avalanche began to quickly pick up speed. This had been his plan, more or less, but seeing the reality of it barreling towards him he second guessed the decision and took a steadying breath. They had only needed to distract their enemy long enough to allow the others to escape and judging by the signal he had arranged with Leliana they had been successful. Although, knowing the others were safe didn't ease his dread of watching an entire mountainside surging towards him.

He turned back to the beacon of light that was still burning brightly before him. The air was so thick with arcane essence it burned his nose and he could taste it on his tongue. Magic had scorched the area and in some places whole stretches of stone and earth had been wrent away like great claw marks. The ground around Cullen had remained miraculously unscathed though he was fairly certain how that had come to be. Elissa had been a fearsome sight to behold as she faught the blighted monster. 

Except... this wasn't really Elissa. She had called herself by another name. _Evelyn Trevelyan_. Why was that name familiar?

The avalanche was growing nearer, the distant tremor becoming more apparent as it approached the foot of the mountain. No one moved despite the rapidly approaching danger. As the churning snow and ice reached the edge of the village and the ground beneath them began to tremble Corupheus uttered a frustrated growl from somewhere deep within his sinuey chest. The dragon burst from the wreckage where it had laid unmoving after Elissa had thrown it. Cullen flinched, assuming it had been dead. His mind was still reeling from the power required to _throw a dragon_. Elissa's head only turned to watch the beast approach, she made no move to attack. It quickly leapt to Corypheus' side and the gangly creature climbed onto it's back with surprising agility. The beast heaved itself into the air just as the edges of Haven began to fall beneath the tide of frozen debris.

As soon as he was gone Elissa fell to the ground as her light faded to a pulsating glow. She landed first on her feet but stumbled forward unsteadily onto her hands and knees. Cullen was at her side in a moment, pulling her to her feet and steering her towards the still smoldering remains of a wooden barricade. The ground beneath Haven was filled with caverns and though most of the entrances had been boarded up long ago her fight with the dragon had left one nearby accessible.

He half pulled, half dragged her in a run towards safety but the avalanche was already on their heels. The shriek of the dragon had sent chills up his spine but the thundering sound of a mountainside descending upon them instilled him with a whole new sense of fear. Her glow was steadily deminishing and he knew the last time it had faded entirely she had passed out. They just needed to reach the cavern first.

Suddenly she pulled free of his grasp and halted with a small slide, leaving Cullen skidding to a stop a few feet past her. He reached back just as she turned to face the towering bulk of snow and ice, throwing up a single arm to shield her face. It reached her a moment later but broke around her small form as if hitting an invisible wall. Cullen watched as a tree easily three times as wide as he was in full battle armour emerged from the rolling tide of snow and hit the barrier, splitting in half with a cracking snap that could be heard even over the thundering movement of the avalanche. Her light diminsed even further until it was barely a flicker. He grabbed her up into his arms and bolted the last few yards to the entrance, leaping down into the cavern as the snow and ice crashed overhead.

His back hit hard against the stone below and the air was forced from his lungs. They had landed in a sprawled tangle with her head resting against his chest and one of his legs pinned beneath her body. His one arm was still wrapped around her waist where he had held her during their fall and he felt the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Neither of them moved as he laid there catching his breath for a moment. He stared up at the ceiling as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. The cavern was dark except for the luminescent glow from a few nearby mushrooms. Water dripped somewhere nearby into a puddle and echoed faintly along the rocky walls as the sounds from above signified the avalanche had run its course. He tried not to think about the crushing weight of the mountainside above him.

He propped himself up onto one elbow while still holding her form tightly to him. She didn't react. As he slid his leg out from underneath her weight her head shifted along his chest, dropping unsupported. His aches and bruises shouted in protest as he quickly maneuvered himself to his knees to cradle her against him, angling her face towards his. Her eyes were closed and her whole body limp as if in a deep sleep. He shook her gently with no response. She had passed out as before, no doubt the last of her strength used to divert the bulk of the avalanche away from them.

Holding her firmly in his arms as he supported her weight against his chest he moved one knee forward and with a grunt brought himself up to stand at full hieght. He could feel a slight breeze blowing through the cavern and he hoped that meant the exit, wherever that may be, was unobstructed. He began to walk, the steady sound of his boots meeting the stone beneath them now echoing alongside the drips of water.

The cavern stretched on for some time, the monotonous rock beginning to all look the same. Cullen had difficulty guessing the distance he had covered with all the twists and turns of the dim passageway though he was grateful the glowing mushrooms seemed to have spread across much of the sunterrainian landscape. The air felt fresher the further he travelled and the sounds of blowing wind now faintly joined the sounds of his footfalls.

He began to also come across signs of civilization along the edges of the cavern: a broken barrel, a heap of decomposing cloth, a single discarded boot. This area had been used in the past and he pushed forward, eager to be out of the confining space. Elissa's sleeping form still rested against his chest, blissfully unaware of the their situation.

When he finally saw the cave open up in the distance he let out a sigh of relief. With the exit so near however came a chilling wind and he looked down at Elissa. Her armour would offer her decent protection from the cold though her neck and head were totally exposed to the elements. He gently laid her down against an outcropping of rock and shrugged off his mantle before wrapping the fur tightly around her shoulders. It wasn't much, but it was the best he could do given their circumstances. He collected her back into his arms and stepped towards the open air.

He emerged into a storm of blowing snow and biting wind. It leeched away at his strength, sending tendrils of chill down into his very bones. He felt a shiver pass through the sleeping form in his arms and he held her tighter to him, pushing forward into the blizzard. 

He could just make out the snowy peaks along the horizon around him and guessed their position to be somewhere Northeast of Haven. The chancellor had described a path that had wound up into the mountains to the North. He continued his trek up the slope, her added weight plunging his boots deep into the snow with every step. Soon enough the cold wasn't his only concern as his muscles resisted the combined abuse of the exertion and freezing temperature. He pushed through it.

He came across the signs of an abandoned camp as he climbed into the mountains. There had been a fire lit here not too long ago, the embers still giving off tendrils of heat. _They had passed through here._ He pressed on, confirmation that he was on the right track refueling his determination.

It wasn't long after that he saw the flickering lights of fires lighting up the exposed rock ahead of him. As he stumbled around a large boulder a camp emerged before him, a familiar flag blowing in the wind.

"Commander!" shouted the gruff voice of Cassandra as she rushed towards him. Leliana emerged from a nearby tent at the sudden commotion and quickly made her way towards him aswell.

He didn't stop moving. He headed directly for the tent Leliana had just emerged from, hoping the spymaster kept her tent as warm here as she had her rooms in the Chantry in Haven. He wasn't disappointed. As soon as he crossed the threshold the warmth enveloped him.

A large brazier burned in the middle of the tent. Under normal circumstances he would have questioned why such a luxury had been carted off with them when a hasty escape had been their priority but in this moment he only relished in the warmth. He held Elissa close to heat.

Leliana peaked around his shoulder at the slumbering form in his arms.

"She lives," she breathed, her relief apparent. 

"We need to talk," he said as he felt the warmth return to his hands.

"About who _she_ really is."


	27. The Nature of Souls

Elissa was preparing for battle. She could feel the weight of her armour as she fastened the buckles of her chestplate, pulling the straps tight. The metal gleamed in the light of a setting sun, making the elegant engravings etched into the silvery surface come alive with orange hues. Her greaves fit close to her thighs, covered in the same decorated steel as her chest. Despite the sturdiness of the steel the metal was light.

She stood alone in a large room, great windows stretching up towards the ceiling that let in the fading light. In the distance an imposing range of towering mountain peaks could been seen, their height hastening the departure of the sun's warmth. The room was sparsely furnished though the few pieces present were each the product of a grandmaster artisan. The wood of the bed wound around in on itself delicately as if the object itself were still alive. A small table of similar design was in front of her with a high backed chair at its side. There was only one chair as though visitors were uncommon or unwelcome in this space. Resting on it's back was a plush length of fur which she picked up reverently within her long fingers. 

It was a wolf's hide.

She spread it up and over her shoulders, letting it run down the length of her torso and fixed it into place at her belt. She turned from the table with a sigh and crossed the room in a few long strides to the open windows and stepped out onto the balcony. The sounds of preparations for war could be heard below: the grinding of sharpening stones and the pounding blows of a blacksmith's hammer. She ignored the bustle beneath her and fixed her gaze out at the last slivers of light visible of the setting sun. As it finally dipped beneath the peaks she turned back towards the room, glancing at the darkened windows as she passed.

She saw her reflection staring back at her. 

She was... _Solas_?

* * *

Elissa woke with a jolt, the dream forgotten for the moment. Her return to the waking world was abrupt and sudden, as if she had been tipped from a great height and tried to regain her balance. Her heart raced as her eyes flashed open and darted around as her surroundings came into focus.

Solas was kneeling before her, his hands gently pulling away from her face as magic danced along his fingertips. He regarded her calmly, though curiosity swam across his expression. There was something else, though it flashed across his eyes and was gone before she could understand what she saw. 

Something was tickling her nose and she dropped her gaze towards the familiar black fur that had found it's way back to her shoulders. She felt a calm spread through her at the sight of it. Her eyes slid closed as her body took in a deep breath and caught the scent lingering on the commander's mantle.

They flashed back open a moment later. 

Cullen. Corypheus. The avalanche. She had passed out just as the bulk of the surging icy tide had hit her, or rather, hit _Evelyn_. It all came back to her at once and the instinct to run took over. She made a move to get up except she found her body held gently, but firmly, in two strong arms. She tilted her face upwards and her panicked gaze was met by Cullen's own concerned expression. Relief flooded through her and she relaxed once again, finally paying attention to her surroundings. Cullen was kneeling opposite Solas, supporting her weight against his knees while he cradled her close to his chest. Now that she was awake he began to loosen his grasp.

Suddenly a throbbing pain spread through her head and she winced, her hands grasping at her temples with a groan. Cullen's arms tightened back around her and she heard his voice growl from above.

"You said it wouldn't cause her any harm."

"This isn't my doing," Solas responded calmly.

The pain quickly faded to a dull ache, reminding her of a muscle that had been overworked a day prior. She gently massaged her temples, trying to sooth the discomfort away.

Then, much more softly, Cullen whispered down to her, "Elissa?"

"I'm fine," she murmured. She stopped rubbing her forehead and turned back to the mage, narrowing her eyes at him.

" _What_ wouldn't cause me any harm?"

Solas exchanged a look with Cullen. She heard the commander swallow. He released his hold on her and she climbed from his lap, standing up over the two men unsure if she should be angry or not. 

She was in one of the Inquisition's larger tents, like the one she had shared with Leliana and Cullen on the road. A large braizer burned in the center of the space, throwing off its heat in waves and keeping the occupants of the tent warm. 

Solas stood gracefully as he unfolded to his full height before her. Cullen rose more awkwardly, his joints seemingly stiff and he stretched his long legs one at a time. There was a pool of snowmelt beneath his boots, and droplets stuck to his armour. She ran her fingers through his borrowed mantle and felt it was also damp, despite her proximity to the heat from the braizer.

"What do you remember?" Solas inquired politely.

"All of it, until the avalanche hit," she replied honestly, though she still eyed him suspiciously. 

"The name you used, the one you gave to Corypheus. Leliana recognized it as the name of the woman you claimed rescued you when you first fell out of the Fade," the elf explained.

Elissa nodded. 

"She had that name looked into while we were in Haven," Solas continued, "Evelyn Trevelyan was born a minor noble in Ostwick before being moved to the Ostwick Circle when her abilities as a mage emerged. She had come to participate in the Conclave and was presumed dead."

Elissa recalled the presence that had filled her mind, very much alive and vibrant. She frowned.

"She isn't dead. She-" Elissa searched for the right words, "She came to me. Like when I faught the demon at the Breach. It felt the same, except this time she was fully in control. I just... I just _watched_."

Solas listened to her words quietly and nodded when she finished, as if confirming a theory. "After Commander Cullen told us what happened I offered to... investigate."

She remembered his hands pulling away from her face and the magic still swirling about his fingertips as she had awoken. 

"You poked around inside my head," she said bluntly, unsure how to feel about the invasion. 

"I wouldn't phrase it as such, but yes," he admitted. 

When he didn't immediately continue Elissa raised an impatient eyebrow. "...And?"

"You are host to a second soul, or at least a fragment of one. I believe it to be Trevelyan," Solas replied with the intonation of an academic. Even though his words surprised her, Elissa felt like she had already known it, deep down.

Culled stopped massaging his upper arm to look at the elf in shock. "What does that mean?" He turned a critical eye on Elissa, "Is she _possessed_?" He barely whispered the last word and wouldn't meet her gaze. 

" _No._ " Solas replied to the commander harshly, "Absolutely _not_. What lies within her is certainly no demon. It's not even a spirit. It's part of a living soul, though I can only guess where the rest of it resides. As far as I know this hasn't ever happened before."

Cullen finally met her gaze and she smiled apologetically, though she wasn't entirely sure what she was sorry for. He turned away again, something akin to shame crossing his features. Solas continued to speak.

"It may be the reason for your newfound magical abilities, and your talent at wielding them. It may also be the reason your memories aren't returning," he shrugged. "There is much I just don't know."

She had an idea.

"Can you look again? Maybe-" she began.

"No," he interrupted her midsentence.

"But you told Cullen it was safe-"

" _No_." His tone was final. "It is safe enough but there were... unexpected effects to the magic. I won't attempt it again." He punctuated his point by turning to leave. He nodded to the commander as he passed before letting in a gust of cold air as the canvas flap opened and shut. 

Her shoulders slouched foward in defeat and she dropped her eyes to her boots. Everytime she found an explanation for something a dozen new questions sprouted up in its place. She was so weary of chasing after answers only to be left more confused than where she started.

Another pair of boots entered her field of vision and she felt a pair of strong arms wrap around her shoulders, pulling her forward. She let her head rest against the hollow of Cullen's neck and took a deep breath.

"Thanks," she murmured into his chest. A responding _mhm_ sounded from inside his throat and she felt the reverberation against her cheek. One of his hands travelled up from her shoulder until it cupped the back of her neck and she tilted her head up to look at him. He leaned back slightly so he could look down and meet her gaze, giving her a half smile.

"I'm relieved you're alright," he said softly, his thumb brazenly massaging small circles beneath her ear. The contact sent a cascade of little shivers through her.

Elissa was all at once filled with the impulse to lean up on her toes and press her mouth to his, curious how his smooth scar would feel against her lips. She had even begun to roll her weight forward onto the balls of her feet when the tent flap opened with another sudden gust of cold wind and the pair turned towards the newcomer.

Leliana eyed them impassively before settling her gaze on Elissa.

"You should come out here," she said quietly.

Elissa was aware of raised voices coming from outside the tent, louder now that the flap was opened. Cullen let his arms drop and she felt a subtle wave of disappointment, her neck now cold without the warmth of his hand. He stepped away, albeit reluctantly, and she followed him towards the entrance and stepped out into the brisk night air.

Dozens of people were spread out before the tent entrance. Soldiers, mages and scouts alike, their eyes growing wide as they gazed at her reverently. Those in front had bent down to one knee while those in the back were beginning to do the same. Still more joined in along the edges of the crowd adding to the wave of bending knees. 

They were singing in unison, their combined voices raising in symphony into the night. It was a Chantry hymn Elissa remembered from Highever. It was a song of hope. Of perseverance. And they were all singing it to _her_.

Leliana had begun to sing at her side, her voice soft and sure as it joined the chorus. Elissa turned to see her face had softened aswell while she sung, her eyes dancing in the light of a large bonfire. Even as Elissa balked at the sight of the usually severe spymaster another voice joined in behind her, sending a little thrill through her. Cullen's baritone caressed her ears, floating above the the other voices as the song reached its peak.

For the first time she felt a growing peace with the responsiblity that had been thrust upon her shoulders. Despite everything that was happening one truth was now certain.

_She wasn't alone anymore._


	28. Alistair's Study

Alistair's private study contained a large high-backed chair which had more cushioning to it than an Orlesian bedchamber. The piece of furniture weighed as much as a whole druffalo and had required several able bodied men to carry it up the stairs to the room. He had always thought this addition was excessive though Eamon had insisted. He was a king. Kings didn't sit on _flimsy wooden stools_. He could still hear the smile in the Arl's voice as they had watched the monstrosity being placed against the window. 

The chair had sat there for years with little use, mostly serving as something for the maids to periodically remove the dust from. His study also contained an imposing desk, constructed from the same sleek dark wood as the chair, which had been varnished to an unnatural shine. It was big enough for someone even as tall as he was to lay across without their feet dangling off the edge. Of this he was certain: he had tried it out himself personally once he had been left alone with the extravagant pieces of furniture. In honesty he had been rather intimidated by the sight of them, paired together in front of a grand window which overlooked the city far below. 

Any time he passed by his study he would smirk at the memory of his body stretched out across the desk. Elissa would have found it funny, he had been certain. He once even thought that perhaps she would have taken over the study for herself had she-

He didn't think about that again.

He began to give the room a wide berth. For a long time he avoided it entirely, choosing instead to handle his correspondence from a table near the kitchens while he ate. The more important the letters the more attention he paid to keeping his dinner off of them. It made his Senesshal visibly uncomfortable. 

However, as the years passed he found he was less intimidated by the ornate furniture and slowly began to use the room. The walls of shelves began to fill up with books and little knickknacks he found during his travels. The desk he used as an extension of the shelves once they ran out of room and its sleek dark wood became home to a number of letters, stacks of books and other curiosities. He still avoided the high backed chair for a while, though in time he found use for it, too.

It was seated at this desk that he first learned about Elissa's return. As he had quickly begun to arrange his visit to Highever he had passively wondered if a second chair could be made to add to the study for her. The desk was easily big enough for them both and he chuckled thinking about her rolling her eyes as she would watch him stretch out excitedly across the wood. She _would_ find it funny. The little fantasy had quickly turned heated as his mind conjured up what else could happen between them alone in the room with the sturdy desk. A flush crossed his face that reached his ears. At any rate, he looked forward to bringing her home to Denerim.

Except things didn't go as planned. Leliana had warned him but he didn't pay it enough heed. He had never really considered the possibility that she wouldn't remember _him_. But she hadn't remembered. He had returned from Highever torn and conflicted and haunted by thoughts of the ex-templar's hands around her. No sooner had he sat back down in the high backed chair had he recieved word about the Tevinter magister and he set out again immediately. He fretted for her safety, feeling responsible she had gone there in the first place, but felt a little excitement at the prospect of just seeing her again.

Then Redcliffe changed everything. 

He had gotten to hold her, _the real her_ , just for a moment but it had been more than enough to light a fire. Any notion he had held about just being happy she was _alive_ vanished in a puff of smoke. He needed _more_. 

They had kept in close contact following her return to Haven. He had stayed initially to ensure the mages did as they promised, though he stayed longer simply because of the letters. She replied quickly, once the ink was still damp enough to smudge after it had arrived. He could see traces of the woman he had known in her writing: the way she expressed herself, her sense of humour, the way she easily lost herself in an off topic tangent. Their letters gradually progressed from an exchange of questions and answers to the more causual correspondence between friends. He kept each of them stored within a little box, lined to ensure the safety of its contents. 

He had required space once he returned to Denerim. The large desk in his study had been cleared off to accommodate the growing pile of texts and tomes that accumulated as he sought out answers to his questions. He read about memories and of different ways to store them both magical and otherwise. He read about ressurection though much of that was steeped heavily in religious dogma. He even thought to look into the strange time magic the magister had used though there was nothing to be found on the topic. 

Although Alistair often found excuses to get out of actually picking up a book, once he found himself with one in his hands he really did enjoy reading. He poured through the books his attendants found quickly, keeping the creeping doubt that there weren't answers to be found at bay. He had the entire Denerim library as well as the Royal Archives at his disposal but there wasn't any mention of what he sought. He kept looking though, always hopeful the next book might hold a clue. After several days spent seated against the velvety fabric and plush cushions the king reluctantly admitted to himself Eamon may have been right all those years ago: this was a worthy chair.

A knock at the door roused him from his research, and Alistair glanced up as one of his scouts entered the room. The man was breathless as though he had sprinted up the stairs to the study two at a time.

"I bring news, your Majesty," the man panted.

"Haven has fallen."


	29. Scout to the North

Elissa had described her encounter with Corypheus to her inner circle. They had listened quietly, each of them reacting in their own way. Dorian had visibly paled hearing about the monster's Tevinter origins. Further discussion had ensued surrounding the likelyhood that he could actually be one of the ancient Tevinter magisters responsible for corrupting the Golden City. If this was true, and no one was confident that is was, it would mean Corypheus was one of the very first darkspawn. The word had sent shivers down her spine. As the more historically inclined of the group began to debate the intricacies of Chantry lore Elissa had snuck out. She had heard enough.

Following their song the members of the Inquisition had returned to their duties, though a charged atmosphere still ran through the camp. They were a cause united now against an enemy with both a face and a name: Corypheus. Word had quickly spread through the ranks about her battle and everywhere she went awed looks and excited whispers followed. If he really was an ancient magister of unspeakable power and one of the original darkspawn... then she had held her own against him on equal ground. Or at least _Evelyn_ had. To be honest, even Elissa was impressed.

Later that night she stood alone on the edge of the camp, her face tilted up to face the moon that had crested above the peaks surrounding them. She still wore Cullen's cloak even though the sky was clear and the weather remained calm. She found it comforting beyond just the warmth it provided.

Soft footsteps padding through the snow announced the presence of another nearby and Elissa turned to face an approaching Solas. He had remained silent while she spoke about her encounter with the ancient darkspawn though he had appeared deep in thought. 

"May I have a word?" he asked, and Elissa wondered if he had reconsidered his decision to look within her mind again, though she dared not bring it up.

"I noticed you were quiet during the group's discussion," she replied quietly. 

He held his mouth in a tight line. "The orb you described," he said cautiously, watching her carefully, "I believe it is Elven."

She raised a eyebrow.

"It is a foci," the elf explained, "Used by ancient elves of ages past to channel powerful magic. I have seen such things in the Fade..." he trailed off, his eyes growing distant. "Old memories of older magic. Echos of a dead empire."

She watched him curiously. During her time in Haven she had found opportunities to discuss the Fade with him and on occasion he would sometimes share his stories with her. She often got the feeling he felt more at home dreaming within the Fade than living in the waking world.

"Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave," he continued, his eyes once again focused on hers, "I do not know how he could have survived that blast."

"He said he wanted to assault the heavens," she murmured, thinking. "So it wasn't the explosion that opened the rift. The Breach _was_ intentional."

Solas nodded grimly.

He continued to stare at her and she stared back, confused and wondering if she had missed something he said. Then it hit her. Her face fell. "You fear what will happen if it comes to light it was elven magic behind this whole mess, even if it was wielded by a mad Tevinter."

He closed his eyes while he let out a sigh. "Yes. Corypheus may know of it's true origins or he may think the orb is Tevinter; his Empire's magic _was_ built on the bones of my people."

Elissa passively wondered why he always seemed to be so polite. Even now, while discussing something as dark as his people's brutal history, he was so composed. However when his eyes opened again they were hard and his voice had an edge.

"Knowing or not he risks our alliance. I cannot allow it."

"If it's any help," she said softly to the glowering mage, "I will fight to uphold that alliance. My name carries weight. People will listen."

The darkness left his eyes as he looked at her thoughtfully. His lips curved upwards into a small smile. "I should think you have enough to occupy your thoughts at present," he replied conversationally.

"The Hero of Ferelden is nothing if not a great multitasker," she said with a shrug.

Solas let out a soft chuckle.

"Besides," she continued, the humour slipping from her tone, "It won't matter much if we all freeze up in these mountains. The chacellor's hidden path saved many lives but now we have nowhere to _go_."

The elven mage watched her, an unreadable expression drifting across his features. When he did finally speak she caught the slightest hint of sadness in his tone.

"There is a place," he said quietly, "That waits for a force to hold it. A place where the Inquisition can rebuild and grow."

"How do you-" she began but he waved off her question so she just assumed he had seen something in the Fade that may be of use to them.

"Scout to the North," was his only reply. He turned his gaze to follow the direction, staring off as if he was looking at something hidden behind the mountains. 

* * *

Elissa had listened to Solas' directions and the Inquisition had set out the following morning. Many seemed content to just follow, faith that their leaders had a plan, though Cullen had been persistent in his questioning. Only when she had pointed out that the elven mage had yet to do anything to break their trust had the commander acquiesced.

Every morning at dawn Elissa ventured out into the mountains to scout the best path forward. She was quickly becoming familiar with the distant peaks that never seemed to grow any nearer. Fortunately the weather had remained favourable to them, clear skies allowing the sun to warm the weary travellers. Progress was slow. The carts carrying their supplies had not been built for the rough terrain and whenever one became damaged the whole procession had to be paused while it was fixed. 

It was on the fifth day during her scouting that she first saw their destination on the horizon. She had initially thought it was just a trick of the light. The snowcapped peaks casting strange shadows or perhaps even differently hued stone along the face of the mountain. It wasn't until Solas came to stand beside her, staring with an unfathomable expression did she realize this was what he had directed her to. 

The castle rose up from the mountains, it's great jutting towers just a continuation of the peaks it was built atop of. The walls reached high, eveloping the structures within and shielding them from prying eyes and enemy arrows alike. It was a _fortress_. 

The parapets bore no insignia and the unlit rooms and undisturbed snow alluded to the entire thing being abandoned. Anyone who would leave a stronghold like this, even secluded out in the mountains as it was, must have only done so out of desperation. Or perhaps its inhabitants had been defeated and the victor left it vacant as a testament to their prowess and might. Whatever the cause it appeared to have happened a long, long time ago.

Solas turned his gaze from the castle to her and eyed her bewildered expression with a hint of amusement. 

"What is this?" she breathed.

His reply was a single word, though he uttered it with gravitas as he turned back to look at the castle with a peculiar fondness. 

"Skyhold."


	30. Inquisitor Cousland

Elissa had ridden ahead with a forward party to inspect the mountain fortress. They slowly made their way up the winding path towards the towering front gate only to find it barred to them. Iron Bull had struggled to twist the lifting mechanism until Solas discovered the secret latch securing it in place. Minutes later the group crossed the length of the great bridge that led into the castle proper.

The grounds of Skyhold were spectacular. She had been right that the castle had been abandoned and from the looks of the decaying furniture and crumbling stone it had been left vacant for some time. She fixed some of the damaged walls and passageways with her magic as they had explored the area, earning her a few nods of approval from Solas.

Over the next few hours as the Inquisition continued to arrive Elissa explored the rooms and halls within the castle. It must have been a breathtaking sight in its prime. Great arching windows and intricately laid brick could be found in many of the rooms. The darkened passages still bore sconces though their fuel had long since dried up and Elissa lit her way with a glowing orb of magic floating above her. She wandered without direction and before long found herself lost, only the sound of her footsteps echoing against the stone. She cast about uneasily, looking for something familiar that she had passed earlier.

"Hello," said a timid voice from behind her.

Elissa spun to see Cole standing in the hallway. His eyes looked at her curiously but he bore no torch with him. How had he found her?

"You're not like the others," he said quietly. "Who are you?"

"I'm Elissa. We've met already," she said, somewhat perplexed. The young man was strange, though she hadn't yet figured out the cause of it.

He just shook his head at her. "No. You're not. You're _more_."

Had he been talking to Solas? She thought they had decided to keep the nature of her souls secret. Had the boy been eavesdropping?

"I'm just me, Cole." This was a strange conversation.

"You're just you, yes. But _you_ aren't just Elissa. You're _more_ , thinking as one." He looked at her curiously before he spoke again, "Is it loud in there?"

She took it back. _Now_ this conversation was strange. Evelyn _was_ intwined with her but she but she only emerged when her magic was needed. She wasn't exactly talking at her right now.

She suddenly found this whole discussion amusing. 

"Do you know they way out?" she asked, changing the subject before it started to hurt her head.

He shook his head at her with a profound sadness before he let out a small gasp. "Oh," he said with a lighter tone, "From the castle? Yes, that's much easier." He turned and walked into the darkness and she followed. 

Only her footsteps made any sound.

He led her through a number of hallways she hadn't yet explored before he opened up an unassuming door and daylight poured into the room they stood. She followed him outside but she had to shield her eyes for a moment from the brightness. As they adjusted she recognized the upper courtyard before her and the sounds of people busily at work returned to her ears. 

She turned to thank Cole but the young man had vanished.

She decided to keep to the light and climbed up to the battlements to explore the castle from above. There were plenty of people around here so her chances of getting lost again were few. 

After a number of dilapidated rooms filled with broken and rotting wood she approached an open door with torches already lit within. She tentatively poked her head in to find Cullen shoving a large desk across the floor.

Debris from the room had been swept into the corner and an untrustworthy looking ladder led up to the floor above. The moth-eaten curtains had been removed from the windows to give a clear view of the mountains and the great bridge leading into the fortress. 

With a final push Cullen repositioned the desk in front of the windows and he stood back to inspect his work with a silent nod of approval.

"You've been busy," Elissa said quietly from the doorway.

Cullen turned with a start though his features immediately softened as he noticed it was her.

"I thought this would make a promising office," he replied as he moved to stand behind desk, running a single ungloved hand across its dusty surface. "Needs a little cleaning though," he murmured, inspecting his fingers.

She watched him from the doorway in quiet admiration. He looked very official standing at the sturdy desk with the sun shining in the windows behind him, even with the rest of the room in the state that it was around him.

"Promising indeed," she replied as she eyed the ladder and stepped to its base to peer into the second floor. Sky was easily visible through a hole in the roof. "What's up there, you think?" she asked, turning back to the commander. 

"I thought-" he cleared his throat, "I thought I would sleep up there."

She turned back to the blue sky peaking in through the ceiling. "Cullen, there's a gaping hole. You'll freeze."

"Concerned for me are you?"

She hadn't heard him cross the room to stand next to her and she started slightly at the sudden proximity of his voice. 

"Can't have the Commander of the Inquisition catching a cold," she said with a laugh as she felt the fur of his mantle grazing her shoulder.

"Speaking of the Inquisition," he said softly, his eyes lingering on her, "Come walk with me."

They stepped out back into the battlements, Cullen holding the door open for her. He led her down the steps into the courtyard where Cassandra, Leliana and Josephine were grouped together in hushed conversation.

"You found her, Commander," Cassandra spoke in her usual severe manner. Cullen only nodded in response. He cast a hopeful look at Elissa before walking away with Leliana and Josephine, leaving her alone with the Seeker.

"Skyhold will become a pilgrimage now, even more than Haven ever was. Your name and reputation as the Hero of Ferelden still carries great weight in Thedas," Cassandra began as she turned to walk towards the central stone stairs leading up to the main buildings. Elissa followed silently.

"Word of your deeds against the Elder One will only add to that legend. Though as news spreads it will inevitably reach him aswell. We have the walls and numbers to put up a fight here but this threat is far beyond the war we anticipated."

Cassandra paused at the top of the steps and turned to her. "But we now know what it is that allowed you to stand against Corypheus and what drew him to you."

"Evelyn stood against him, I can hardly take credit for that," Elissa replied.

"I do not pretend to understand the nature of your connection with her, but it seems to be a clear advantage. Without her you would not be here," Cassandra said simply.

"Without her I wouldn't have this either," Elissa added, holding up her palm with the anchor pulsating within.

"There is power in the anchor and there is certainly formidable power in Evelyn's magic, but it is not why you are standing here now." The Seeker turned to continue walking towards the next set of stairs that led into the main hall.

"Your decisions let us heal the sky. Your determination brought us out of Haven. You are the creature's rival because of what you did. And we know it. All of us."

As they mounted the steps Elissa found Leliana waiting for them. She stood resolutely, her back straight and her eyes burning with an unseen fire. Resting in her upturned palms was an impressive sword, glittering in the sun. The hilt had been crafted in the likeness of a dragon, curling it's way up from the pommel towards the sharpened steel. It was a blade that commanded respect.

As Elissa reached the landing Leliana stepped forwards, holding out the weapon before her.

"The Inquisition requires a leader," Cassandra said with reverence. "The one who has already been leading it."

Their eyes fell on Elissa.

" _You_."

She looked between them as she felt her heart begin to race before her attention was drawn to the courtyard below her. The bustle of earlier had ceased as every member of the Inquisition tilted their faces up towards her. The gathered crowd stood silent. Waiting.

"It's unanimous? You all have that much confidence in me?" Elissa said with mild surprise as she turned back to the women with her.

"All of these people have their lives because of you. They will follow," the Seeker replied.

"That wasn't the question," Elissa pointed out.

"I will not lie. Handling this power to anyone is troubling," Cassandra admitted as she gestured for Leliana to step forward with the blade, "But I have to believe this is meant to be. There would be no Inquisition without you."

Elissa looked at the mighty sword held out before her. It appeared well crafted and she wondered at the weight of it. Leliana showed no sign of strain though Elissa knew the woman possessed the strength of a lion within her slender form. Besides, it wasn't so much the physical weight of the offered weapon that concerned her.

Leading the Inquisition was a heavy responsibility. Lives would be in her hands. Hard decisions would need to be made. She had led armies before, sure, but without the experience that came with her missing memory did she still have what it would take?

Her mind wandered to Alistair. He had told her about the crown of Ferelden being thrust upon his head following the Blight. She knew he had been wary of the responsibility, too. 

_But he had done it,_ she reminded herself.

She reached forward and wrapped her fingers in a tight grip around the handle and Leliana's hands fell away leaving Elissa to bear the weight alone.

"Corypheus will never let me live in peace. He made that clear. He intends to be a god, to rule over us all. He must be stopped," Elissa said with determination, as much to herself as to those around her.

Cassandra approached the edge overlooking the crowd below. "Have our people been told?"

"They have," Josephine called out from below, "And soon, the world."

"Commander, will they follow?" Cassandra continued.

Elissa's eyes fell on Cullen and he stared up at her from the crowd. His expression was intense.

"Inquisition!" he shouted, "Will you follow?"

The crowd shouted back in agreement, raising their fists into the air. He turned to face them.

"Will you fight?"

The crowd responded back even louder as Cullen lifted his arms into the air.

"Will we triumph?"

Voices rose even higher still as Cullen drew his blade and raised it up towards her.

"Your leader. Your Hero. Your _Inquisitor_!"

The enthusiastic cheer reverberated against the castle's stone walls and within Elissa's very bones. She looked down at the blade in her hand and thrust up into the air before her as the shouting and hollering reached a crescendo.

Absently, she realized she felt a growing kinship with the formidable statue of her in the gardens of Highever after all.


	31. The Intruder

The next few weeks flew by in a rush. Cassandra had been right that people would flock to Skyhold as news of what happened in Haven spread. Their numbers swelled by the day with people eager to pledge their loyalty to the Inquisitor. Or the Herald of Andraste. Or the Hero of Ferelden. Elissa was beginning to drown in her titles.

Carpenters and stone smiths had been working around the clock to repair the castle and it wasn't long till Skyhold was well on its way back to its former glory. Everywhere she looked now the insignia of the Inquisition caught her eye. A small throne had even been provided for her in the back of the main hall with the mighty dragon sword mounted above the imposing chair. Elissa had been careful to avoid them both though she knew they didn't frighten her as much as they once would have. She wondered if Alistair had felt the same way about his throne when he first claimed it.

In her limited downtime she still wrote to the king. He had heard of the fall of Haven from Denerim and had openly admitted that in the days it took to receive word about the Inquisition's relocation to Skyhold he hadn't slept at all. She had found the confession touching.

A war room had been set up aswell which she had quickly grown familiar with. She would often meet with her advisors there to discuss next steps and plans. There was always something else that needed her attention now that she was Inquisitor, it was endless.

When she wasn't on the road and was able to actually sleep within the walls of Skyhold a place had been set up for her. Ironically it was located above the war room: she never could escape it. When she had first set foot within her quarters she had felt a strong sense of deja vu. It was like she had been there before though she knew it to be impossible.

The room itself was a sight to behold. It was situated at the highest point of Skyhold with a walk-out balcony that overlooked the grounds below. The windows all offered breathtaking views of the mountains that surrounded the fortress. A large bed had been brought in for her along with a dresser filled with clothes that all seemed to fit her perfectly. No doubt that had been Josephine's doing.

It was there that Elissa woke following a restful night of sleep. No nightmares had troubled her dreams. The sun was rising in the East, spreading over the floor and creeping across her bed to warm her face. She sighed peacefully, for once ready to face the day ahead of her.

"Good morning, Elissa," said a thickly accented voice from just beside her.

She scrambled out of the bed in a tangle of sheets and blankets, landing on the floor with a thud. The intruder sat up from where he had been laying next to her while she slept, two piercing green eyes meeting her own frantic ones.

"What in the Maker's name-" she blurted as her heart raced. Her magic pulsed against her fingertips, ready to defend her. "Who are _you_? What are you doing _here_?"

It was an elf. _Another_ elf. How did they keep sneaking into her room without being noticed? The slender figure gracefully shifted toward the edge of the bed nearest to her and sat with his legs hanging off the side. He grinned at her even as she scowled at him. She disentangled herself from the bedsheets and kept a wary eye on the stranger. He watched her with an amused expression.

"You don't remember me?" He clutched at his chest dramatically in mock injury and then winked at her. 

Elissa shook her head slowly. Should she remember him? She regarded him with a wary curiosity though no memories flooded into her mind. His blonde hair was loose around his sharp elven face, though a small section had been braided back. Two slender curved markings reached from his temple down to his cheek and moved with it as he grinned. 

"Allow me to introduce myself then." He stood from the bed in a fluid movement and bowed deeply before holding out a hand to help her up.

She didn't take his offer and rose on her own, remaining in a defensive crouch and keeping a distance between them. As he had bowed she saw the two wicked blades resting in sheaths affixed to his back. His movements were smooth, practiced. Though his eyes appeared friendly they watched her like a predator. This man was dangerous. 

"I am Zevran Arainai. Antivan, adventurer and occasional assassin," he said politely as he retracted his hand. 

The name meant nothing to her but his admission made her wary. He kept his distance though and she did not relax her guard.

"I do not remember you," she said carefully. He only nodded.

"I had heard the rumours. I thought maybe..." he trailed off and a genuine sadness seemed to touch his features but he just shrugged, "Alas it seems we will just have to reacquaint ourselves, my old friend."

A sudden knock sounded at her door before she heard it creak open downstairs. A familiar voice called up in greeting before footsteps began to mount the steps.

"This is your wake up call, Inquisitor," Dorian's voice drifted up from below. "It's Tuesday and the Red Templars won't ritually dismember themselves-"

As his head came into view and he saw the pair his words cut off abruptly. His form blurred as he fade stepped, magic speeding his movement and carrying him quickly forwards. As he rematerialized he causually took the last step which placed him at her side. 

"I didn't know you had company, darling," he said flatly, "Letting strange men into you room, _tsk tsk_ , people will talk." Flames danced around his fingertips in an ominous threat. 

"I didn't _let him in_ ," she muttered. She was going to have a word with Cullen's guard rotation.

"Oh?" Dorian narrowed his eyes at Zevran. "Explain yourself, intruder."

Zevran arched a single brow at the mage, clearly sizing him up. "I heard the tales of my dearest friend returning from the dead to lead the Inquisition. I had to see for myself."

"She has been back for months, you only show up now?" Dorian asked suspiciously.

The elf just shrugged. "Word spread slowly to Antiva."

Elissa had regained her composure and grabbed her boots from the floor near her. "Leliana can sort this out. Let's go."

She descended the steps to the main hall with both her and Dorian keeping an eye on Antivan. As they made their way through the sparsely decorated hall Varric cast them a curious look from his table near the fireplace. When his eyes fell on the elf he let out a throaty chuckle.

"Zevran?" he called out with amusement as he came over, "Don't tell me you've come to join up, too."

"Varric!" Zevran announced cheerfully and smiled at the dwarf warmly. "I would have come sooner had I known how beautiful the Inquisition's members were," he said with a sideways glance at Dorian. Dorian raised a single brow as he looked between the dwarf and elf.

Elissa paused and looked at Varric. "You know him?"

"Sure," Varric shrugged. "I met him with the Champion. We helped rid the world of a few of his former employers." He looked at her a little sadly, "You don't recognize him?"

She shook her head and he turned to Zevran. "Sorry Birdy, that's rough."

The Antivan sighed. "Losing one's memories is a small price to pay for returning from the dead." He turned back to Elissa, "But let's hurry and see Leliana, I'm eager to have so many old friends together again."

* * *

Cullen loomed over the war table inspecting troop arrangements. Their numbers were growing steadily since they had reached Skyhold. He was so engrossed in his task he almost didn't hear the war room door open as Elissa slipped in.

She wasn't alone. Dorian followed her in alongside an unfamiliar elf.

" _Maker's Breath you have got to be kidding me_ ," he muttered under his breath before they entered into earshot. Another stray? Where did she keep finding these men?

As the elf drew nearer Cullen looked at him closer. Wait... he seemed familiar after all. Where had he seen those markings before...

"Zev?" Leliana's voice spoke from the window where she had been standing. 

"Leliana!" cried the elf in a thick Antivan accent. 

Cullen knew that voice. He looked at the elf again in mild surprise. He had been with Elissa when they liberated the Fereldan Circle. Zevran. The Crow. He was older now, but it was definitely him.

"Still as beautiful as ever," Zevran said fondly as he embraced the spymaster in a warm hug. In an uncharacteristic display of affection she returned the gesture.

"It's been too long," she replied. 

He pulled away from her though one arm remained wrapped causually around her waist as he turned to look between Elissa and the spymaster. "But now we are together again! We must celebrate."

His eyes roamed around the room. Cullen shifted uneasily under the elf's appraising gaze, though Dorian had met it with one of his own. Cullen cleared his throat uncomfortably.

"Leliana," Zevran said with a smirk, "I hope your Inquisition is recruiting based on merit and not just stunning good looks alone."

"Some of us are cursed with both," Dorian replied with a sly smile and a wink.

"I see you two are friends now," Elissa murmured.

Cullen actively wanted to exchange the subject. 

"When did you arrive?" he asked abruptly. 

Zevran turned back to him. "You've come up in the world, Templar." Cullen opened his mouth to correct his title but the elf continued talking.

"I arrived late last night but Elissa was already fast asleep. I had to join her in bed to keep from freezing while I waited for morning." He turned back to Leliana, "Did you have to choose a headquarters in the mountains? _It's so cold_."

Cullen nearly choked. "You- You joined her," he stammered, " _In her bed_?" He turned to Elissa, who had gone bright red.

Zevran eyed the pair curiously. "Oh yes, her sheets are deliciously soft. Have you tried them out for yourself?"

" _What_?" he blurted, feeling the flush tingle in his cheeks, "No, I haven't tried- _No_."

Elissa was solidly crimson now. "I need to go find Cassandra," she said, quickly turning on her heel to leave, "To let her know we have a new guest."

"I'll join you," Leliana said quietly, moving to follow Elissa out and tilting her head at Zevran.

Cullen watched them both go and he tried to think of an excuse to leave himself.

"You two are close?" Zevran was talking to him. Cullen turned back to see the elf's features had lost their former genialness as he stared at him intently.

The commander was reminded of the king asking him the same thing in Highever. He realized Zevran would have known them both back then while they all travelled together. He would have known the nature of Elissa's relationship with the soon-to-be king. His mouth went dry.

"She's the Inquisitor. I command her forces. We are close by necessity," he replied carefully.

The elf regarded him thoughtfully then turned back to the door that Elissa had left through, his mouth in a hard line as a sadness touched his eyes.

"That is barely the woman I remember. She looks the same, it's uncanny. But..." he trailed off, thinking. "I've never seen her blush so easily for anyone besides-" he cut himself off, his piercing eyes turning back to Cullen.

"Besides the king," Cullen said, finishing the thought.

Zevran nodded. 

"They were close," Cullen stated. It wasn't a question. The king had all but admitted it.

"I have it on very good authority they were _very_ close," Dorian interjected, earning a questioning look from the pair though he didn't elaborate. Cullen resisted the urge to glare at him.

"They were close," Zevran agreed as Cullen's heart sank, "But that isn't the same woman. She doesn't remember."

"She's just missing memories of spanking a few darkspawn. Surely that doesn't change who she really is. This is just a twist in her story. All the good stories have them," Dorian retorted.

Zevran shook his head. "This isn't just a twist in her story. This is a whole new book. I know people. My entire life has been about being able to read people and I'm telling you: That isn't the Elissa Cousland I knew," Zevran said with a sigh. He turned to look at Cullen again, eyeing him carefully.

"I'm glad she has found someone to look out for her though, she never did know when to ask for help," he said with a hint of gratitude.

Cullen felt shock at the words, especially coming from someone who knew her history personally.

"But," Dorian said incredulously, "You _know_. How would _he_ feel if he knew you supported-"

"I swore an oath of loyalty to the Hero of Ferelden, not its King," Zevran said evenly, "My concern rests with her. I wouldn't doubt Alistair has similar feelings on the matter. He has always only had her best interests at heart."

Cullen was reminded of his short interaction with the king. _Keep her alive_ , he had said. _That is enough_. 

"But she could still remember! We don't know that her memories won't come back!" Dorian said adamantly.

Zevran shrugged, a smirk pulling at his lips as he turned to the mage. "Then I would say two strapping men are always better than one."

Dorian fixed him with a knowing look.

"Zevran, I think you and I are going to get along famously."


	32. Chess

Cullen knelt on a single knee, praying to the Maker with the fervour of a desperate man. He kept his eyes tightly closed and wished he could block out his other senses aswell. Anguished screams and the tearing of flesh and breaking bone filled his ears and he begged for it to stop.

Then it did. Too tired to be horrified with himself for wishing for the hastened demise of yet another of his brothers-in-arms he clung to the moment of silence like a drowning man breathing in a gasp of air. There were no more Templars left. He was the last.

 _This will be over soon_ , he thought with relief. 

Footsteps sounded towards him and he felt gentle hands cup the sides of his face, tilting it upwards. He kept his eyes firmly shut. He knew this game.

"Cullen, it's me," whispered a soft voice. He tried to shut it out, this wasn't the first time they used _her_ to torment him.

"They have left. All of them. The seals are broken. We can leave, too," the soothing voice continued to whisper. Cullen felt his guard drop just a fraction. Leave? With her? They could be... together?

The hands on his face reached around his back and pulled him close to her, all the while whispering little reassurances into his ear.

"It's safe now, Cullen. Let's leave this place. Together." Her lips gently grazed across his ear and he felt the contact shiver through his entire body. He warily opened his eyes as he clung to this last shread of hope.

The Desire Demon stared back at him with black soulless eyes that were filled with a self-satisfied amusement. Behind dark curling horns that emerged from its brow danced an arcane flame that, despite his proximity, Cullen felt no heat from. The creature's violet-hued face was split open where a grinning mouth spread far too wide across its cheeks. Within he could see the rows of sharpened decaying teeth. 

Cullen tried to get away from its grasp but it held him tight, the hands that had once been soft and gentle now dug into his flesh with sharpened claws.

"Now now," the demon still spoke with her voice, "Don't be like that, _Cullen_." It spat out his name like venom.

"No, no, no," he whimpered, trapped within it's arms like a young babe swaddled in a blanket. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. 

Another voice spoke from behind him.

"This isn't real, Cullen," it said with a strangely familiar cadence.

The demon vanished.

The speaker stepped around him and came into view. It was a woman, dressed in mages robes though he didn't recognize her face. Had she been a mage in the Fereldan Circle?

She knelt before him gracefully, sitting back on her feet, though this visitor kept her hands clasped within her lap and made no attempt to touch him. She only looked at him with sad eyes.

"You are safe. This fight has been long since won," she said softly.

There was something about the way she held her shoulders back and her composed features that seemed familiar. Why didn't he know this face? He felt like he should.

"Dream no more of this," she whispered and the Circle Tower fell away around him. It was replaced by the familiar fields and farms of his home village. A gentle breeze touched his face and the smell of death and decay was replaced with the comforting scent of damp earth after rain. He felt the sun warming his back and he realized his armour was gone. Laughter sounded behind him and he turned to see children climbing an old stone statue in the middle of the village.

He turned back towards his rescuer but the woman had disappeared, too.

* * *

The following day Cullen sat in the gardens of Skyhold. The greenery that grew up the walls and across the ground was lush despite the barren frozen landscape that surrounded the castle. Elissa had been busy transforming the withered and wild space into a blossoming oasis. The weather was warm within the great stone walls, trapping the sun's heat from being blown away by the strong winds.

The Inquisitor sat across from him, bent over in her chair staring at the chess board between them. She had found him playing Dorian earlier. The Tevinter mage was a shameless cheat. She had taken his place after he had offered it to her, presumably sensing Cullen's growing frustration with his illegal moves or perhaps he had just wanted to go find the elf, Zevran. The pair had become thick as thieves. 

He and Elissa had spent much of the game discussing his family back in Honnleath, the latter half of his dream last night still fresh in his mind. Elissa had been curious about his past and it wasn't long before he opened up and was talking animatedly about his siblings. He told Elissa about practicing chess with his brother until he was able to finally beat his sister, the reigning Rutherford chess champion. He absently made a mental note to write to Mia. He really should write to her more.

"This has been a pleasant distraction from discussing the Inquisition and related matters," he said conversationally, picking up a piece to move it across the board.

Elissa nodded in agreement, her brow furrowed in concentration as her eyes remained keenly focused on the game before them. "I like spending time with you," she said distractedly as she made her own move with delicate fingers.

Cullen smiled softly to himself. Her eyes drifted up and she regarded him from beneath her lashes. 

"We should do this more often," she said softly, before quickly returning her gaze to the board again, her face flushing the most wonderful shade of pink.

"I'd like that," he replied, hoping the surprise at her forwardness didn't leak into his voice. He allowed himself to gaze at her with an unmasked fondness as she determinedly looked away from him at the board. "We should finish our game, right? My turn?" he said softly.

She was a gifted chess player and he was hopelessly distracted for the rest of the match so it was no surprise when she won. She sat back proudly, her shoulders held high as he praised her victory.

For some inexplicable reason he was reminded of the woman from his dream the previous night. Her arrival had been a welcome change from his usual torment. The nightmares were gradually becoming worse without Lyrium. He had already talked to Cassandra about the matter, though it had been nagging at him that Elissa didn't know about his decision to stop taking it. Now that she was Inquisitor she really ought to know.

"Elissa, as leader of the Inquisition," he said quietly as they replaced the pieces on the board, "There's something I must tell you."

She looked up at him curiously. "Whatever you have to say, I'm willing to listen." Her tone signified she recognized the shift in conversation and he found he missed her easy smiles already but he pressed on. She needed to know. He continued to reset the board while he spoke.

"Lyrium grants templars our abilities but it controls us aswell. Those cut off suffer: some go mad, others die. We have secured a reliable source for the templars here but I... no longer take it."

"You stopped?" She sounded surprised, her hand freezing above the board with the piece she had picked up. He looked back up and her concern was evident.

"When I joined the Inquistion," he admitted, "It's been months now."

"Months?" she said incredulously, a note of anger slipping into her voice. She still held the game piece in her had, though now it rested in a tight grasp as she rested her arm against her knee and leaned towards him. "You didn't think to tell me?"

"I should have," he confessed, holding her gaze. "I would not put the Inquisition at risk. I've asked Cassandra to... watch me. If my ability to lead is compromised I will be relived from duty."

Her expression softened as he spoke and a short silence followed when he finished. She looked past him, her eyes unfocused as she thought on his words. When they looked back towards him her concern was evident once again.

"Are you in pain?" she asked quietly. 

"I can endure it," he replied, desperately hoping it wasn't a lie.

"Thank you for telling me," she continued as she replaced her piece on the board, "I respect what you're doing, though I can't imagine it was an easy choice."

He felt a weight lift from his chest at her words and he let out a deep sigh.

"I will not be bound to the Order any longer," he said evenly.

She tilted her head back towards him and gave him a knowing look of understanding. She had seen the aftermath of the Fereldan Circle falling. She had picked her way up the tower fighting abominations and confronting demons of her own. Maker knows why those horrible memories were returned to her but it also meant she knew his reasoning better than anyone besides himself. With a sigh of relief he realized she wasn't going to make him explain himself any further. He nodded his head in grateful acknowledgement.

"Shall we play again?" he asked as his lip curled into a small hopeful smile.

She returned his smile with an eager nod.

* * *

Later on Elissa entered her quarters as the sun was beginning to set behind the mountain peaks. There was an unfamiliar chest at the foot of her bed with a small note left on top. She approached it carefully, picking up the scrawled parchment and recognizing Iron Bull's writing.

_Hey Boss,_

_You really did a number on Haven. It took the boys and I several days to dig through the snow but we found enough to make the effort worth it. We found a few of your things from your room, I'll ensure they are left in your quarters._

_Iron Bull_

She held the note down at her side and looked at the chest curiously. It wasn't large, they clearly hadn't found much though she hadn't had many possessions in Haven to begin with. She knelt before it and lifted the lid.

Right at the top was Alistair's neatly folded cloak and she felt her heart lurch. She had forgotten about it entirely despite her frequent correspondence with the king.

She ran her fingers across the woolen material and felt a strange crinkle beneath the folds. Lifting it from the chest she peered at its remaining contents though nothing else could have made the noise. Her letters from Alistair were all accounted for but they were confined in a little wooden box. She looked back at the cloak and searched the folds until she found the crinkle again. Upon further inspection she discovered a small hidden pocket.

Tucked away inside of it was a worn letter.


	33. Shadows Over Denerim

Elissa reached Leliana's office out of breath and panting having run up the many flights of stairs at speed. She could feel her magic beginning to swell within her, no doubt in response to her anger. Several ravens sqwaked at her, ruffling their wings within their cages and fixing her in a stare with their glassy black eyes. 

Leliana looked up from her desk, seemingly undisturbed by the Inquistor's abrupt presence in her domain atop the tower. 

"What is _this_?" Elissa demanded, holding out the found letter before her in accusation.

The spymaster cocked a single thin eyebrow and patiently waited for Elissa to elaborate. She marched across the space and tossed the letter onto her desk before pressing her finger into the parchment. 

"You wrote to Alistair. Before Highever. Before I even met him. You warned him about my memory. You warned him I may not remember my own history."

"Yes," was the red haired woman's only reply. 

Elissa leaned down until her face was only inches from hers. " _I urge you to keep certain aspects of that history a secret. If she doesn't remember she doesn't need the distraction_ ," she quoted, having already committed the damning phrase to memory. 

The woman only stared at her and remained obstinately quiet. Elissa let out a growl of frustration, turning from the desk and beginning to pace across the narrow space. Leliana silently followed her with sharp eyes. 

"Perhaps I was only asking him not to discuss the reality of being a Warden with you. That could have been too much to take, especially if you hadn't remembered Fergus."

Elissa stopped pacing and fixed Leliana in a hard stare. The woman was good. _Very good_. "I would have believed that," she admitted, "Before Redcliffe."

Leliana's face changed. It was only for a fraction of a moment but the woman dropped her gaze as something flashed across her features before she was able to pull her composure smoothly back into place. 

"What have you been keeping from me?" Elissa finally asked, dropping into the chair in front of the desk and once again meeting Leliana's eyes. 

The question had been lurking in the back of her mind ever since Redcliffe. One moment she was being hit with the magister's strange magic and the next she was held fast in the king's arms with no recollection of how she got there. Leliana had been tight lipped about it and Elissa wondered if she had seen something in that dark future that they had all decided to spare her from. Even Dorian dodged the subject.

It had been enough for Elissa to begin to wonder what else the red haired woman was keeping from her.

"I have a right to my own past, Leliana. _Tell me_ ," Elissa urged, though the woman before her remained placid.

"No."

" _No_?!" Elissa could feel Evelyn's magic trying to push through but she faught to remain calm. She _was_ angry, but this wasn't the to way to get information from Leliana. 

"Those details are not for me to share. I only urged him to keep quiet until we knew how you'd respond to meeting him. If he hasn't talked to you yet it's not my place to say," Leliana replied calmly. 

Elissa let out another growl of frustration and knew the conversation was over. Leliana was too skilled at keeping secrets. She stood from the chair and prepared to leave. Unable to meet the spymaster's eyes she glanced down to the desk as she rose and noticed a familiar crest amidst the many across her desk: two fighting mabaris across a checkered field. Her fingers darted out quickly to grab it though Leliana made no attempt to stop her. 

It was certainly Alistair's penmanship, though it was addressed to Leliana. Elissa looked to her, realizing it may be personal but Leliana only nodded. 

_Leliana,_

_I find myself in a touch of trouble._ _These cultists... Venatori, I think they're called? We have them in the royal palace, or so I'm told. Like rats, but with magic and nasty sneers. I don't know what they're up to, but I need to find them and drive them out. Since the Inquisition knows all about them, I'm hoping you'll help._

_King Alistair Theirin_

The letter was dated a week ago. All at once Evelyn was there in her mind, screaming. Her presence burst forth and the whole room was bathed in a glowing light as her powerful magic came to life.

* * *

This was the first time Leliana had seen Elissa's _other_ magic up close and it was an awe-inspiring sight. Gusts of wind swirled around her, rocking the raven's cages and scattering the pages across the desk. A single name fell from her lips before she vanished in the blink of an eye.

" _Alistair_."

Leliana stood and quietly began to collect her papers. She picked up the letter from the king and shrugged. _I guess I don't need to send aid to Denerim after all,_ she mused to herself.

* * *

Alistair sat on his throne in full battle gear, his sword clenched in one hand and resting across his lap. He had it on good authority the Venatori attack would come tonight. His royal guard were standing at attention along bases of the raised stands between him and the great throne room door. He waited. 

Some time had passed before the door creaked open and a stout man walked in, shamelessly dressed in Tevinter robes. Alistair had grown impatient and eyed the man critically. _You can't be serious_ , he thought. He had been ready for a fight, but this man looked like he spent more time behind a desk than engaging in battle. Alistair stood from his throne and looked down at the man as he stopped a distance away.

"King Alistair," he said in a nasally voice, dripping with contempt. "My lord wishes you dead and I'm only too happy to fulfill that request." He grinned and the king noted he was missing several teeth. 

Alistair was perhaps a little bit disappointed. He hadn't been in a good fight for _ages_. It didn't look like it would be happening tonight however. 

"Guards," he ordered, "Take this little rat to the dungeons."

No one moved. Frowning Alistair turned to his men. This was unusual. The stout Venatori before him hadn't lost his grin. One by one his guard turned towards their king and dropped into battle stance, beginning to move towards him.

" _Shit_ ," Alistair muttered under his breath. He had underestimated this situation direly. He slid his shield onto his arm and readied his weapon.

Their attacks were relentless. Alistair was a strong fighter but even he could only hold out against this many armed assailants for so long. With an armoured boot he kicked a corpse from his blade after he had run the enemy through. He blocked another attack and knocked the man back with a powerful push of his metal shield. Bodies were scattered at his feet but even more descended upon him. He swung his blade out before him in a large arc, giving himself some room to breathe. 

He was going to die here. He let his mind conjure up the memory of Elissa, _his Elissa_ , held tightly in his arms. At least he had been able to experience that before his end, even though it hadn't been enough. No amount of time with her would ever be enough. He braced himself for a final push, determined to take as many of these bastards with him as he could.

Suddenly there was a thunderous _crack_ and blinding light filled the throne room, the wooden banisters lining the raised balconies casting dark shadows against the walls. He brought an armoured gauntlet up to his face to shield his eyes from the light before him and fell back a step.

"What in the Maker's name-" he began but was cut off by a furious scream sounding from the radiant sun only an arm's reach from him. He thought he could make out a shape within its center. 

The Venatori attackers soon joined the scream as they each burst into flame, burning embers erupting from their chests and tendrils of fire spreading fast as lightning across their bodies and down their limbs. As the embers approached their helmeted faces flames licked out from beneath their visors, followed quickly by smoke as their screams died and bodies fell to the ground.

As the light faded Alistair could make out the form of a woman standing before him, her arms spread before her with fingertips splayed out. He could see cracked stone beneath her feet, as though a great hammer had been brought down against it. As she took a step away from him he could see the cracks had indeed spread from beneath her feet. 

The stout Venatori had survived the attack and stood back against the throne room door, glaring. Alistair watched as the woman approached him with a determined stride. 

"I have a message for your sniveling little master," she spoke in a very familiar voice, though he had rarely heard the rage within it as he heard now.

_Elissa?!_

"Denerim is protected," she continued, halfway to the man now. 

"The Venatori don't fear your pathetic little Inquisition," he spat. "The Elder One-"

He was cut off as she reached him and wrapped a single hand around his throat, lifting him off the ground and slamming him against the door. He trashed though her arm didn't budge. 

" _By me_ ," she said calmly. The embers began to grow from his chest as it had on the other Venatori and he screamed despite the hand to his throat. The tendrils of flame moved slowly down his limbs but stopped before it reached his face and his screams continued unabated. With a similar _crack_ to the one that had announced her presence the charred stout man vanished into thin air. Elissa dropped her arm and her body sagged. 

Alistair was already running, leaping over the numerous smoldering bodies scattered across the floor. She turned back towards him and he saw light still glowing within her eyes, though most of her previous brilliance had faded already. She fell to her knees and he reached her just in time to catch her before she collapsed to the ground. 


	34. Dawn in Denerim

Alistair watched the sleeping form in his bed from a nearby chair. Moonlight drifted in from tall windows in a single wide beam, bathing her face in its soft glow. With her features relaxed in sleep she looked just like the woman he had known so long ago. He stifled a yawn, determined to stay awake. He wouldn't waste this precious time.

She began to move and he sat up straighter, watching her carefully. Her eyes remained closed though her face contorted into a grimace and she rolled over before quickly thrashing back to the other side. She muttered in her sleep, little groans escaping her lips as her breathing hitched.

She was having a nightmare.

He quietly stepped to the side of the bed and sat on the edge. With one hand he gently stroked her shoulder with his fingertips and softly whispered soothing noises, as he had dozens of times before. Nightmares were a common side effect of the Taint. Even more so for Wardens who joined during a Blight as she had. He had grown accustomed to calming her sleeping form within their little shared tent when she grew restless with the tainted dreams.

Tonight was no different. Without thinking he reflexively leaned forward and planted a kiss gently on her forehead. She calmed immediately, her breathing returning to it's normal rhythm as her thrashing ceased. He smiled down at her with sad eyes. To have her this close yet so unreachable... _Maker_ , he missed her.

She was still murmuring quietly and he turned his ear towards her to listen. "Ali..." she breathed softly as she nuzzled herself deeper into the blankets and sighed peacefully, "Alistair..."

His heart swelled within his chest. 

She was dreaming of _him_.

* * *

Elissa woke slowly, aware of the sun warming her face though she refrained from opening her eyes. She lingered in the half state between dreaming and waking, enjoying the warmth of the blankets wrapped around her. They were so soft she considered turning over and just going back to sleep again. But the sun was already up, she had clearly overslept. Reluctantly she opened her eyes.

She was not in her quarters.

A large fireplace carved out of ashen coloured stone in the likeness of two leaping mabari hounds occupied the wall across from where she lay. Between the beasts a fire burned lazily with long curling licks of flame reaching up towards their paws. Bricked stone dominated most of the walls around her with several great wooden beams running up their length towards the ceiling.

The furniture that lined the walls seemed to be of a simple yet functional design, though the wood they were constructed from had been varnished to a shine. The bed rested in the middle of the space, four square wooden posts running up from the corners and arching inwards until they met in the center. A velvet material had been drapped down from the top, fastened to the posts with small braided rope. A chair had been pulled up next to the bed though it was empty save for a circular length of glittering metal that sat heavily upon the cushion. She eyed it curiously.

It was a crown.

 _Alistair_. 

The rush of recollection from the previous day coursed through her. She had collapsed shortly after Evelyn had rid the room of the assailants attacking the king, sending their leader back to whatever hovel he had crawled out of. She didn't know where that may even be but the sniveling vermin knew and apparently that was all Evelyn had needed. Elissa prayed they would heed the threat.

It had been a dangerously close call, judging by the bodies that had piled up around Alistair. He had defended himself for longer than most men would have been able to and she passively wondered how Cullen would measure up against him.

A knot formed in her gut as she thought of the letter that had sent her on the path to Denerim and of the questions it presented. Not for the first time she wondered why Leliana had wanted to keep something secret from her and why Alistair had followed her wishes. He had been so forthcoming about anything else she had inquired after. Were they trying to spare her a bad memory? Had she seen something so terrible they didn't want to force her to face it again? Could it have somehow been worse than Kinloch Hold? Or the archdemon? 

As her gaze turned towards the window it fell on a figure standing before it bathed in the morning sun. The king stood tall against the glass, his light brown eyes watching her intently. She stared back at him quietly, a question forming on her lips that she suddenly found herself nervous to ask.

"Good morning," she whispered timidly instead, keeping her voice soft to not disturb the stillness of the room.

He smiled at her and she found herself suddenly breathless. Not for the first time she was struck by his handsome features, though now they were made all the more potent as he regarded her with such warmth. She felt her face begin to flush and she sat up abruptly.

As the blankets fell away she realized she was no longer dressed in her own clothes and confusion spread through her. She looked down at the over large shirt curiously, reaching up and pulling back the long sleeve to tug on one of the laces around her neck. A quick peak beneath the sheets confirmed she wore nothing else but her smalls. Her eyes slid to the king who had paused halfway between the window and the bed, his composure suddenly tightly controlled.

"Alistair," she said as she fixed the king in a flat sideways stare, "Where are my clothes?"

He looked at her sheepishly. "I had the healer look at you after you fainted," he said quickly, "To make sure there wasn't an injury I missed."

Almost as an afterthought he added, "I was there but I- I didn't look. Promise." His cheeks were pink as he pointed towards a neatly folded pile of clothing resting on a little table beside the bed. "I'll uh, let you get dressed."

As she eyed her clothing he turned towards the door but she spoke first. "You don't need to leave," she said quickly, "Just- Just turn around." She felt reluctant for him to go, even for a moment.

He paused and nodded. The fading blush still painted his cheeks as he turned back to the rising sun.

Before she left the warmth of the bed she looked at the man before her. He stood tall with his shoulders back and his hands clasped behind him. She looked down at the over large shirt which was in the process of slipping from her shoulder, sizing out the width of the king's broad back. With a little smile she realized the clothing must belong to Alistair and she smoothed the fabric fondly beneath her fingers. She turned her eyes back to him, more curious than ever.

_You dressed me in your own clothes. Watched over me as I slept. Why? Gratitude for the timely rescue?_

She slipped from the bed and he kept his word: his face remained away from her. She dressed quickly, shrugging out of the king's large tunic. When she was in her own clothing she collected the borrowed shirt and walked up beside him, holding it out.

"I take it this it is yours," she said quietly. His eyes slid to the side to look at her before dropping to the fabric. He nodded, accepting it from her.

She turned back to look around the room and he followed her gaze. Her quarters in Skyhold were nothing to be ashamed of, even for a Cousland, but this was a whole other level of finery.

"This is yours then, too?"

"Aye," he said with a nonchalant shrug.

"It's good to be king," she murmured, hoping the blush at realizing she had spent the night in the king's own bed didn't show.

When she turned back to him she found he was already staring at her softly and her breath caught in her chest. _Maker's Breath_ , he was stunning. His light brown eyes were shining bright in the sun, a small grin accentuating his full lips. What secrets lay behind that smile? She had to know. The curiosity was eating away at her. She gathered her courage. 

"I found a letter," she began, determined to hold his gaze in case he gave something away with his eyes. "In your cloak. The one you gave me in Highever."

His face grew serious.

"Leliana refused to explain what it meant," she continued. 

He turned back towards the window, his jaw tight.

"Alistair, I need to know," she said quietly. "What haven't you told me? Can it be that terrible?"

He didn't respond.

After a moment he turned away from her and stepped towards the bed before turning back on his heel. His eyes were intense as he looked at her. He took in a breath as if about to speak but then his jaw went tight again and he began to pace the length of the room silently, wringing the tunic between his hands. She waited, now suddenly anxious.

When he finally met her gaze again his eyes were resolute: whatever he had been grappling with he had made a decision. He stopped his pacing just in front of her. Without a word he reached beneath his shirt and pulled out a fine silver chain that hung from his neck. He lifted it over his head and held it out to her. At the end of the chain hung a fine golden ring. It was far too small for his fingers. She looked at it curiously.

"This was yours," he said softly.

She took the chain from him wordlessly, letting the ring drop into her empty palm. It was a simple thing and she found it beautiful, though it was entirely unfamiliar to her. When she turned her face back towards him his expression was a strange mix of pain and longing.

"This was mine? And you kept it?"

He looked at the little golden band sadly, his mouth in a tight line. He seemed reluctant to answer her question. She held her breath, desperate to finally know the truth.

"I had given it to you," he explained slowly. There was a pause before he spoke again as he choose each word with care.

"To celebrate our engagement."

Her heart stopped as her eyes grew wide. She took an uncertain step back.

 _What_?!

"No," she gasped. "No, no, no." She shook her head quickly. "No. I wouldn't forget something like that."

Even as she denied it she knew it was true. He had felt familiar from the first time she met him despite her lack of memories. Thinking back to that meeting again threatened to undo her entirely. She now understood the horrified look in his eyes as she had regarded him without recognition. How she had fled his presence. He wasn't just a fellow Warden. He wasn't even just a close friend. He had been so much more. _How could she forget that_? She looked back at the ring in her palm and it grew blurry as tears welled in her eyes.

"Why can't I remember?" she whispered as her voice broke.

He took a step towards her and her head shot back towards him, knocking the tears loose down her cheeks. He hesitated, his face agonized as if torn between taking her into his arms or giving her space. He clearly wanted to respect her boundaries even though ten years apart from her hadn't seemed to dull the way he felt for her. Seeing her upset drove him to action.

_How could she have missed this?_

"Elissa, you haven't forgotten," he said reassuringly, "It's still there."

"You can't know that," she said with a strangled voice.

"I do know that," he breathed, "Because _you_ told me."

"What? I never told-" She froze. _Redcliffe_.

Seeming to guess her thoughts he nodded solemnly. "You remembered in Redcliffe, if only for a moment. You told me you were still here, even if you couldn't remember yourself."

Her breathing began to quicken. She felt light headed now and on the verge of full out panic. She hadn't thought this was where the truth was headed. She had guessed they were more than merely travelling companions having spent so much time together, but this...

Her eyes became saucers as another thought intruded into her already overwhelmed mind: the amber-eyed Commander of the Inquistion.

"Oh Maker no," she gasped as the panic began to take over. " _Cullen_..."

His face grew pained as something dark flashed behind his eyes and his jaw went hard. He reached for her and she flinched away from the contact. 

She had been wearing Cullen's mantle when she found Alistair that night in the gardens. What had he thought? Had he guessed the commander had stayed with her that night? What had Leliana shared with him since about her and Cullen? WHY HADN'T LELIANA TOLD HER. 

"No no no, _Maker what have I done_ ," she sobbed, hunching forward and wrapping her arms around herself as she moved further away from the king. She had hurt him so much already by forgetting him. She couldn't add to it by admitting she had grown to care for another man in her ignorance.

Two powerful arms enclosed her shaking form, holding her tightly. "I know about you and Cullen," he said softly. "It wasn't hard to guess. I saw the way he looked at you in Highever."

He knew. Maker he _knew_. He caustiously loosened his arms and held her out in front of him so he could look into her eyes. Her breathing came in short gasps.

"But you've done nothing wrong."

She opened her mouth to argue but he shook his head. 

"You were alone. You didn't remember. Demons were raining from a bloody hole in the sky and for whatever reason only you can stop it. You needed to find people to lean on. I wasn't there. He was."

"But if I had _known_ -"

"I would have still just been a stranger. This is exactly why Leliana wanted to keep this from you. She wanted you to be able to just live this gifted time without being a prisoner to the past. You have enough to worry about as it is."

She stared at him, speechless. His embrace had stopped her downward spiral though she was still wretchedly conflicted. He could make excuses for her until he went blue in the face but she knew thinking of her with Cullen probably hurt him more than a knife in the gut. She hated that she was the cause of that.

Though she couldn't bring herself to regret what she had with Cullen either. 

But she couldn't have _both_. She felt divided right down the middle. Part of her wanted to pull away from the king and return to Cullen with haste but the other half longed to be right where she was, no matter the cost.

"I know your memories _are_ still within you. I know it's possible they will resurface someday. I've lived these past ten years without you, Elissa. I'll wait till the Calling takes me just for the chance you'll remember me again."

She wanted to tell him that he was so much more than she deserved. That the way he said her name made her heart flutter. That she was beginning to understand how easily she could have fallen in love with him once before.

Instead she hugged him, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck and pulling him down into a stoop. His hands found her sides, clutching at her upper waist to steady himself before they slid slowly across her back, pulling her tightly to him.

He whispered against her ear, his lips breathing warmth into her neck.

"Until then, if you'd be willing, I'd like the chance to let you get to know me again."

She nodded and smiled. "Yes, I'd like that."

This would undoubtably complicate everything even worse than it already was, but she did it anyway. Because while he was a part of her forgotten past he was also very much a part of her present. One way or another she was tied to this man.

The other half of herself knotted itself with worry but she reasoned she had time to sort it all out: Corypheus wasn't going anywhere and she had to return to Skyhold while Alistair was tied to Denerim. She would get to the bottom of these conflicting feelings. She just needed time.

She released Alistair from the embrace and he reluctantly stood back up to his full hieght though his hands never left her.

"I should be getting back," she said apologetically. 

"So soon?"

She nodded forlornly. "The Inquisition needs its Inquisitor."

"Give me an hour to ready some horses and supplies. I'll escort you back," he turned to leave but she grasped his arm as it slid from her. He turned back, glancing at her hand which held him.

She smiled at him sadly. 

"You won't be riding back." It wasn't a question.

She shook her head.

He seemed disappointed. Part of her wanted to let him escort her back to Skyhold, just to have him near for a little longer. She didn't know when she would get to see him again. But she could already feel Evelyn's magic stirring, eagerly readying for her departure.

Alistair brought up a single hand to her chin, tilting her face towards him with the side of his index finger.

"Please be safe," he said softly, repeating his parting sentiment from Highever.

"Always," she replied. 

As the magic pulled her from Denerim she could have sworn she saw the king's features twist in surprise at her reply. 


	35. Back in Skyhold

As Elissa reappeared back in her quarters in Skyhold she realized she was still holding the small golden engagement ring. She hadn't meant to take it, and now she wasn't quite sure what to do with it. She padded across the floor to the chest at the foot of her bed and collected the little box which held the letters from Alistair that the Chargers had found for her back in Haven.

She carried both the box and ring to her desk where she had been keeping the rest of his letters since her arrival. She deposited the box in the drawer and moved to place the ring there as well but she paused just before she let go of the chain.

She didn't want to just lock it away. Too much of him was locked away already.

After a moment she pulled it back towards her and rubbed the smooth metal between her fingers. She silently ducked her head through the chain and tucked it safely away beneath her clothing, just as Alistair had worn it.

She turned back towards the stairs to go find Leliana.

 _I'll try not to kill her_ , she thought to herself angrily.

* * *

Dorian watched Elissa stomp up the stairs towards the spymaster's office with curiosity. Word had spread that she had vanished the night before after receiving word of a Venatori attack in Denerim. Apparently she was back already. He would have to ask her how she did it: that kind of travel seemed much more preferable to sitting astride a horse for days on end.

As shouts sounded from above he quickly jumped up from his chair and followed the Inquisitor upstairs.

"You lied to me, Leliana!" Elissa's voice was raised though it appeared she was still holding herself back.

"I've never lied to you," came the spymaster's placid reply.

Dorian approached from the steps and both women turned to look at him.

"You knew too, didn't you," the Inquisitor spat at him, "You were in Redcliffe when, when-" her voice broke off. 

Hum. Maybe he shouldn't have come to join this particular conversation.

"He kept quiet about the events of Redcliffe on my orders," Leliana said, drawing Elissa's wrath back towards her.

"How could you keep this from me, Leliana? Weren't we friends?" Her words were thick with accusation.

"We needed you focused," was the red haired woman's only reply.

"Focused? _Focused_?" Elissa snarled.

Dorian padded around the women innocuously stopping beside a bookshelf to pretend to inspect its contents. He knew better than to engage either of them right now but he wanted to be nearby in case things got out of hand.

It was true that Leliana had told him to keep his mouth shut about what had happened in the dark future. While much of their time had been spent fighting for their lives he had had a few opportunities to talk with Elissa about her recently recovered memory. She had told him a little about her old companions, idly wondering what had become of the others besides Leliana and Alistair. She had spoken so fondly of the now-king Dorian had been shocked to see her interact with the commander upon their return to Haven.

He had come to the same conclusions as Zevran about this woman not being the same. But unlike the handsome elf, Dorian knew her memories still lurked somewhere within her. It was just a matter of drawing them back out.

He had helped Alexius theorize about the very magic that had pulled them into the future. What he couldn't begin to fathom was how that had returned her memories. Why had it affected her so? Dorian certainly wasn't about to begin testing out the unstable magic himself but there had to be another way. The biggest hurdle regarding her missing memory had already been overcome in his opinion: he knew it was _possible_ to get it back.

"You should have told me," Elissa growled, "That I was engaged to the bloody _King of Ferelden_."

That caught Dorian's attention, pulling him back to their conversation. She hadn't mentioned _that_ to him in the future.

"And what would that have changed?" Leliana replied calmly.

Elissa paused. 

"You would have closed yourself off from everyone because of a past obligation. Trapped between a past you can't remember and a present you would refuse to live. You would have been isolated. You might have abandoned the Inquisition entirely. That knowledge was dangerous," Leliana continued.

"Damnit Leliana," Elissa cursed, "You don't know me at all, do you? l'm here to help, I wouldn't just _leave_. But you keeping this from me has let me wander blindly into an awkward situation and you bloody know it. You practically _orchestrated_ it."

Leliana remained silent and Elissa let out a deeply frustrated groan. Her arms were pressed against her sides as they shook with her palms upturned and fingers bent inwards like claws.

"You have no problem telling Alistair to back off but no friendly words of wisdom for me? _Hey Elissa, maybe you should focus more on the task at hand instead of making eyes at the dreamy ex-templar_." Elissa snapped with a crude impression of Leliana's accent.

Movement from the lower level of the tower caught Dorian's eye and he glanced down over the railing. There his eyes fell on the Commander of the Inquisition himself. The man must have been coming to Leliana's office, he could see a report held tightly in his hand. He had stumbled into the shouting match above and froze. Knowing what he knew of Cullen, the man was obviously uncomfortable being privy to a conversation not meant for his ears. He was clearly torn between making his presence known or quickly leaving.

 _Pity_ , Dorian thought, _what an excellent time to be a fly on the wall_.

"If you'd like I can have a word with Cu-" Dorian offered.

" _No!_ " She turned to face him and the word shot from her mouth even before he finished speaking. "Don't you dare," she threatened, her eyes fierce. Her whole body was tensed to strike.

"He's..." she trailed off, "He's important to me. That can't just be undone." She cursed again at no one in particular before turning towards Leliana and leveling the woman with a scathing look.

"You shouldn't have kept this from me." Her voice was no longer a shout, but that only made it worse. She turned to leave and began her descent from the tower.

Dorian glanced back towards the lower level but the commander was already gone. Leliana returned to her desk and resumed what she had been doing before Elissa arrived with a cold indifference. Dorian watched her curiously. He knew they had been close, both from their reunion in the future and back in the present during those precious moments of lucidity. That she could act so distant towards her now confounded the Tevinter mage.

He heard Elissa reach the foot of the tower and leaned over the banister to watch her cross the stone floor below him. He listened as the door towards the battlements opened and he walked to the window and continued to watch her as she crossed the bridge towards Cullen's office.

She approached the door and raised a hand to knock but paused before her knuckles hit the wood. Her shoulders drooped and the hand dropped back to her side before she turned and leaned her back against the bricks beside the door. She slid slowly down the wall until she was seated with her elbows braced on her knees and her face rested in her palms.

Dorian could practically feel her anguish from here, though he knew there wasn't much he could do to help her. Unless...

Suddenly her head turned towards the foot of the door before she rolled forward to the balls of her feet and leapt off the bridge in a fluid motion. A second later Cullen opened the door, a confused look on his face as he glanced around the vacant pathway.

Dorian set out to find Iron Bull.

* * *

He found the Qunari in the tavern humming along to the strums from the bard's instrument. Several empty tankards surrounded him though Dorian had quickly realized after meeting the large man it would probably take all the alcohol in Ferelden to dent his sobriety. 

"Our beloved Inquisitor needs a distraction," Dorian said as he approached the bar where Iron Bull sat. His eye turned to regard the mage as he took the empty seat beside him.

"She's back already? That was quick," he murmured as he took another sip.

"Apparently she had an enlightening chat with the king while she was in Denerim," Dorian continued, motioning for the barkeep to bring him some wine.

Iron Bull let out a low whistle in response and Dorian didn't elaborate. He had no idea how but the Qunari always knew what was going on without an explanation.

"Does she need a drink? We just got a shipment of reds from Highever, might be to her liking," he said conversationally.

"I find she likes her distractions more... hands on," Dorian continued, accepting his drink and turning to face the mountain beside him, "And I hear there's a high dragon in the Hinterlands."

Iron Bull brought his tankard down to the bar with enough force to earn him a angry look from the barkeep. A childish grin spread across the Qunari's features.

"I'll ready the horses. You go collect her," the large man said as he swiftly stood and turned to leave.

Dorian downed the rest of his wine in a single undignified gulp and smiled contentedly.

" _Dragons_ ," Iron Bull murmured happily to himself as he pushed the tavern door open and ducked out into the sunlight.

" _DRAGONS_."


	36. Distractions

Elissa had been skeptical when Dorian came to find her and promised her a worthy distraction. During her entire trek to and through the Hinterlands the mage and Iron Bull had been whispering conspiratorially. The Qunari was clearly excited about something but they both kept their lips sealed, only offering her vague hints.

"It'll take your mind off things," Dorian had said.

"It's big. _Big_. I promise," Iron Bull had grinned down at her when she asked.

So far the only real distraction she had encountered was Zevran. The charismatic rogue had joined them for their excursion and she found him easy to talk to. When the others were out of earshot she had even dared to ask about Alistair though Zevran admitted he hadn't kept in touch as much as he should have following the Blight. He had only stuck around in Denerim until he was sure the king wouldn't throw himself off the parapets following his coronation. That had twisted the knife in Elissa's gut even further and she had dropped the matter entirely, instead discussing the Antivan's exploits over the last few years.

He led a colourful life, that was for sure. And explicit: the elf didn't have a shameful bone in his body. He went into excruciating detail about gorey assassinations and introducing young men and women to the sinful pleasures in which he was apparently well versed. After the initial blushing had stopped Elissa found the discussions somewhat enlightening herself, not that she was likely to have need for such knowledge in the near future.

She found herself in higher spirits until they approached the Inquisition camp in the northeastern reaches of the Hinterlands. The soldiers there looked haggard and weary and she rode up warily. What was she going to need to fix _now_?

"Is it home?" Iron Bull asked excitedly as he dismounted from his exhausted steed.

One of the scouts nodded as they looked up to the sky nervously. "It went out hunting this morning but flew back about an hour ago." He eyes fell of Elissa and he stood up straighter. 

"What went out hunting exactly?" she asked no one in particular as she slipped from her horse. The Qunari was busy inspecting his massive blade so it was the scout who responded.

"The dragon, my lady Inquisitor," he replied warily.

"The _dragon_?" She spun to face her companions, "You brought me out here to fight a bloody _dragon_?"

Iron Bull nodded so vigorously his entire body moved with the motion. He danced back and forth between his feet, not unlike a small child awaiting their name day gifts. The movement was more than a little unsettling from his towering form.

Dorian's arm slid around her shoulders and he pulled her side against his chest. "A _big_ distraction, yes? And we can drag it back as a giant trophy to hang over your throne. You Fereldan folk love that kind of thing."

Elissa was speechless. She wordlessly handed the reigns of her horse over to another scout and Dorian turned her to follow Iron Bull into a tunnel nearby. She could hear something _huge_ stomping around in the distance, causing the earth beneath her feet to tremble. The nervous scout looked like he was trying desperately to fight his instinct to run.

She stepped into a naturally formed tunnel, daylight already visible a short distance away from the other entrance. A massive shadow passed over the entire length of the opening causing Elissa's heart begin to hammer in earnest against her ribs. As she emerged back into the light she came face to face with the beast.

It was perched atop a tower of stone, the sun reflecting off its yellow patterned scales in a brilliant display. Long claws gripped tightly to the natural formation leaving deep gashes through the rock itself. It watched them intently with green flecked reptilian eyes as they descended into the small valley. It reared it's great horned head back to let out an earsplitting roar and spread its massive wings to take to the air.

Elissa watched it with awe. She had fought the archdemon countless times in her dreams and even the dark twisted creature Corypheus kept as a pet, but this beast was everything those monsters were not. It was raw power in its purest form, untainted and uncorrupted. As the great beating wings pulled it up higher into the air it unleashed a fireball at the party. Elissa diverted the projectile with a swipe of her arm and it exploded against a nearby cliff.

"Hey!" Iron Bull shouted over the cascade of falling rock, "None of that fancy magic, Boss. We came for a fight. This beautiful thing deserves a _fight_."

Her fingers twitched with the prospect of hitting something. She grinned and pulled out her blades.

Oh yes, this was a lovely distraction.

* * *

Elissa climbed up onto a massive horn several times larger than she was. This very horn had attempted to run her through more than once, though now it served as a perch on which she sat to wipe her blades off on a rag. The fight had been intense, though Iron Bull had been a whole other echelon of intensity on his own. Apparently the plan had been to distract her with a high dragon, though the Qunari clearly hadn't needed convincing to come along. He had repeatedly shouted a single phrase throughout the encounter: _Taarsidath-an Halsaam. S_ he would need to ask him about it later.

Dorian approached her little perch and gently prodded a vicious tooth protruding from the fallen beast's maw with his foot, causing her whole seat to jostle beneath her slightly.

"That certainly got the blood pumping," he mused, crouching and inspecting the fang closer.

"It certainly did," she replied happily, holding her blade up to the sun to check if she had missed anything.

In truth the fight had brought her a sense of clarity. She still had no plan regarding her sensitive predicament but _having one_ didn't seem quite so important anymore. The fierce battle had given her the invaluable gift: Perspective.

"You seen to be in a better mood," he noted, glancing up at her.

"I am," she said simply, nodding at her work and slipping the blade back into its sheath before picking up her short sword.

And she was. Once she had taken a step back from the situation it was difficult to feel quite so trapped within it again. Sure, it was awkward and feelings may very well get hurt, but that was hardly the worst thing in the world. It wasn't life or death. They were fighting an ancient magister turned darkspawn who wanted to burn the world down and build his own empire from the ashes... and yet the affections of two men was what had her spinning out of control. Apparently it had taken staring down the flaming maw of a high dragon to see everything clearly.

"Figure out what you're going to do?" he asked carefully.

"Nope," she said, still happily, as she cleaned the gore from the weapon. It was notched in several places, that would need to be fixed back at Skyhold.

Having no plan, which only yesterday had left her an anxious mess of nerves and stress, now filled her with a strange sense of peace. 

The mage raised an eyebrow but she just continued to clean her weapon silently. If Dorian tried to get an explanation she would have none for him. She couldn't put it into words. Some part of her deep down just _knew_ it would work out. She had just needed a moment to breath so she could listen to her gut.

"You're... okay with that?" he continued, still watching her carefully.

"Yup," she said simply as she resheathed the second blade and hoped off of her perch atop the beast's horn.

After a moment of mildly shocked confusion Dorian nodded to himself. "Well my plan worked flawlessly," he said with a self-satisfied smirk.

She smiled up at him, blinking against the sun behind him, "Thank you, Dorian. I owe you a favour for this."

His eyes sparkled with mischief, though his relief was evident. "Don't let anyone ever say I didn't do anything for the Inquisition," he said with a grin.

Just then Iron Bull and Zevran returned with the nervous looking scout from earlier. Upon seeing the beast up close the young man looked visibly pale, though once it became clear the creature was indeed dead his fear gave way to awe. His eyes glanced around between her companions before finally settling on her.

"I've heard the stories," he said as he regarded her with wide eyes, "And I believed, but this... this is faith made real. You really were sent by Andraste."

Elissa smiled at him politely, still not entirely comfortable with the religious aspect some attributed towards her ressurection. People claiming she held some direct line to Andraste, or even the Maker himself, felt more than a little blasphemous. 

"Yes yes, she's very bright and shiny," Zevran mused. "Can you do it?" He stared at the scout intently. 

The young man pulled his eyes from her to the Antivan before turning back to the fallen high dragon. He nodded. "I'll need a few mages and some more men but we can manage it, I'm sure."

"Manage what?" Elissa asked curiously. 

"Oh it's coming back to Skyhold," Dorian said with a grin.

"I still think it should go in the tavern," Iron Bull grumbled.

"It's going in the throne room so those dottering old nobles can be constantly reminded just what our beloved Inquisitor is capable of," Dorian responded sternly. 

"You've got to be kidding me," Elissa murmured, looking at the sheer size of the fallen beast beside her. It was impossible.

"Darling," Dorian said with a dramatic flare in his voice, "I _never_ kid."


	37. The Tower

Cullen was no stranger to keeping his days filled with routine and mundane tasks. Training. Reports. Issuing orders. There was no end of things to occupy the the Commander of the Inquisition. Today he was inspecting an unused tower along the battlements. The interior was in the same disarray as the rest of Skyhold had been when they first arrived since no natural use had been found for the structure. 

The commander _had_ to keep himself busy. Idle hands meant an idle mind and Cullen didn't particularly care to be left alone with his wandering thoughts. He hadn't had a chance to talk with Elissa before she had left with her companions more than a week ago. The very same day she had returned from Denerim and he had accidentally overheard _that_ conversation. He couldn't help but imagine she was avoiding him. Perhaps that was best.

He wasn't entirely sure what he would say to her even if he had had the chance. Elissa had been engaged to someone else. To a _king_. She would have been Queen of Ferelden. Perhaps she would be again. He bore no title outside of the Inquisition. He had nothing to offer but some skill with a blade, dark memories and haunted dreams. He should just step back and let her obvious choice be made easier without having to worry about his feelings. Except...

" _He's important to me_."

Her words still rang clear in his mind and gave him a glimmer of hope. Regardless, this wasn't a decision to be made by him. He doubted he would have the strength to keep away from her until she explicitly asked it. If she returned and wanted nothing to do with him then so be it. The Inquisition deserved his full attention anyway. 

Much of the morning had been dedicated to clearing out debris from the unused tower. He could have easily assigned the work to any number of his soldiers but Cullen appreciated the distraction physical work offered him. He had made decent progress so far, clearing his way from the upper rooms towards the bottom, dropping broken furniture and refuse down ahead of himself to clear away later. He had removed his armour at one point to give himself a better range of movement while he worked, carefully placing the plate in a neat pile. His linen shirt didn't offer much protection against the cold but as long as he kept moving the temperature didn't bother him.

He had just descended to the bottom landing when the door to the tower opened abruptly with a gust of brisk mountain air which immediately sent chills through Cullen. The noise of the entrance broke the stillness he had grown accustomed to and with a shivering glare he turned to see this newcomer, fully expecting some recruit to be delivering a report.

It was Elissa. She stood in the doorway, her breath exhaling in little clouds before her as she narrowed her eyes into the darkness of the room. The chill he felt immediately vanished as relief coursed through him. She was back. She was _safe_. 

A pile of debris lay between him at the back of the room and Elissa in the doorway. Between the heap and her eyes needing a moment to adjust to the dimmer light she didn't immediately spot him, nor the grin that had spread across his face just at the sight of her.

Cullen had a few precious heartbeats of untarnished joy before his eyes were drawn to her hairline and his treacherous mind began to envision what manner of crown might eventually sit there. His smile faded and his chest twisted back into its wretched knot. 

"Inquisitor." He greeted her formally with a curt nod and regretted his tone as soon as the word left his lips. Her eyes snapped towards his voice and found him across the room. 

"Commander," she replied with a half smile, countering his greeting more than a little sarcastically. Unfazed by his tone her face lit up with excitement. "Maker's Breath, you can be a hard man to find," she murmured though her voice easily reached his ears over the silent room. She picked her way across the debris laden floor to join him on the landing.

He watched her quietly, torn between keeping his distance and fighting back a powerful urge to pull her into his arms. She was back _home_. She reached the landing and stood facing him quietly for a moment. Her exhales no longer came out in little clouds but he was aware of the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed regardless. She was slightly winded, perhaps from a quick ascent up the stairs to the battlements? His own breathing had increased just from her arrival, though he doubted he could be affecting her the same way she affected him. Except... _He's important to me._ Cullen would have given almost anything to know just what was going through her mind. She lifted her gaze up and around the tower before turning back to him.

"You've been busy," she said quietly.

He nodded and absently pushed his loosening sleeves back up his forearms. Her eyes dropped to follow the movement before they snapped back up and Cullen could have sworn he caught a slight blush on her cheeks in the dim light.

"I was trying to think of a purpose for the tower, it's not doing anyone any good in this state," he replied, glancing around at his progress. "I thought it may be something the mages could find a use for."

Suddenly his stomach lurched. " _Maker,_ that's a terrible idea isn't it," he groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose between a thumb and forefinger, "Offering mages their own _tower_."

With a little sigh she crossed the last few feet between them and wrapped her arms around his torso. He was a little shocked at the unexpected contact and stared down at her for a moment before he let his arms wrap around her. She gently pulled herself against him, letting her face rest against his chest.

"I think it's a wonderful idea, Cullen," she breathed. His name on her lips still sent shivers through him. "You're not locking them up inside it. You're giving them their own space that they are free to come and go from."

"Maybe you should be the one to offer it to them," he mused, "They might get the wrong impression from me. _Once a templar always a templar_." He mimicked the line the mages often whispered in his wake when they thought he couldn't hear.

"Credit where credit is due, Commander. I'll not take any for your idea," she said quietly, "But I can be there with you when you speak to Fiona."

He could feel her breath against his neck and her jaw moving across his chest as she spoke. When was the last time he had felt her without his armour on? She seemed to be mirroring his thoughts as her fingertips traced across his back, leaving gooseflesh in their wake beneath the linen.

"Sometimes I forget you're flesh and bone beneath all that armour." He could feel her grin against his chest as much as he could hear it in her voice.

"It's important to keep up appearances in front of the troops," he replied softly into her hair.

She pulled away just enough that she could look up at his face. "Speaking of appearances, I have something to show you. It took so long to track you down it might be set up by now."

His heart warmed at the thought of her seeking him out specifically and the corner of his mouth tugged up into a half grin. The little flicker of hope within him was growing with each moment she spent with him.

"Oh?"

She moved back a step and he felt the cold air rush in to fill the space where her body had been warming his. Her arms dropped from his back though one hand trailed along his arm until it found his hand and she wrapped hers around it. She turned and took another step, leading them back towards the door until her eyes fell on his neatly stack pile of armour near the door. She stopped and he almost stepped into her.

Her eyes fell back onto his chest and the thin linen tunic he wore. "Maybe you should at least put on your cloak. It's cold."

He chuckled and stepped towards his armour. He didn't know how to tell her just being in the same room as her was all he needed to keep him warm so instead he reluctantly let go of her hand to begin strapping his chestplate back on. Her fingers found his sides as she began to help with the buckles, her face focused on the task at hand. Anytime her fingers pressed into his side they continued to leave gooseflesh along the skin. His own fingers were familiar with the movements which left his eyes free to watch her. 

_Maker's breath_ , he thought as he watched her fondly, _if she ever asks me to step aside it will break me._

As he shrugged into his mantle she eyed him with an overdramatic critical eye and rearranged the material across his chestplate frivolously. She grinned up at him, "There. Very respectable. Let's go."

This time she grasped his elbow, the only part of his arm unarmored, and led him back out onto the battlements. The bright sun nearly blinded him as she led the way down towards the training yard. He could see a group gathered around the main entrance to the throne room.

As they reached the crowd her grip on his arm tightened as she carefully nudged her way into the closely packed bodies. The onlookers turned with annoyed looks to see who was pushing through but when they saw the Inquisitor and her Commander the rest of them parted to let them through. When Cullen finally stepped from the crowd he let his gaze drift upwards to see what all the commotion was about.

He was staring down the maw of a high dragon. His own jaw dropped as he stared at the beast suspended from the rafters. It appeared as if it were in flight, it's great leathery wings arched high above its bulk and spreading down along the walls nearly to the floor. The head leaned down towards the entrance, its gaping jaws opened wide enough to swallow him whole. It was equal parts immense and imposing. He tried to push the awe aside to find his words.

" _Maker_ ," was all he managed to utter.

"We brought it down in the Hinterlands," Elissa said almost sadly. "It was tormenting the countryside. With winter approaching we couldn't let it continue to eat or destroy the village's supplies. Or eat the villagers themselves."

His heart almost stopped as his blood turned to ice and he turned to the woman at his side, her fingers still clutching his arm.

"That's where you went? _Hunting a Fereldan Frostback_?" he asked sternly. Of all the reckless things to do... he was going to string Dorian up from his bloody mustache. And the _Qunari_ , he'd loop a rope around his horns and toss him off of the-

"I'm alright, Cullen," she said quietly enough that only he could hear. She squeezed his arm reassuringly. He pulled his focus back from the brink of rage and softened as he looked at her concerned expression.

"Dragons are _dangerous_ , Elissa," he breathed, not sure how else to accurately convey his worry.

"We've faced worse," she shrugged but appeared contrite. "And I wasn't alone. And I really, _really_ needed to hit something."

That brought out a small smile from Cullen and she beamed up at him. He turned back to the hulking monster now adorning the ceiling of the throne room. The nobles would be talking about this until his hair went grey.

Elissa turned to follow his gaze, "It's kind of incredible, isn't it?"

Cullen's eyes dropped back to the woman beside him, her face still fixed on the dragon. Her shoulders were pulled back proudly and her hand still grasped his arm tightly. Was there anything she _couldn't_ do?

" _Breathtaking_ ," he replied in a whisper without looking away from her.


	38. The Champion

Elissa had only just found Cullen and brought him to the throne room when Varric had found her. Reluctantly, very reluctantly, she had left her commander's side at the insistence of her roguish companion. Cullen's eyes had followed her as she slipped away to speak to Varric discreetly and she felt like she was on fire under his gaze. More than once she had needed to pull her focus back to the dwarf, doing her best to pay attention to his words and not the amber eyes that watched her so intently. She knew she needed to talk to Cullen at some point, but the throne room surrounded by nobles probably wasn't the best time anyway.

The dwarf had seemed a little uneasy, glancing around frequently while he spoke to her in quiet hushed tones. There was someone he wanted her to meet, but he didn't want this visitor's presence known throughout Skyhold. The dragon was apparently a good enough distraction for them to slip away unnoticed. Elissa found the entire matter rather intriguing and let Varric steer her away from the main hall after a final parting glance exchanged with the commander.

Varric lead the way down into the bowels of Skyhold. The Inquisition hadn't found the need to descend this deep after they had initially scoured the abandoned halls for hidden entrances into the castle. It was dark and damp and Elissa would have been certain she was in a cavern were it not for the smooth even ground beneath her feet. Varric had insisted they go without a torch to keep prying eyes from following them so she walked at his flank, a single hand gripped on his shoulder to guide her. She wondered at the secrecy of it all but she trusted Varric, even if it meant facing her lingering fears of the dark.

And she did fear it. The darkness. The one thing that reminded her the most of the Void, that eternal nothingness. She could feel the panic beginning to stir deep within her gut, twisting and knotting itself as it grew despite her attempts to squash it back down. Her grip on his shoulder tightened and she felt his hand rest atop hers with a little pat.

"Varric," she whispered as they walked, trying to give her senses something to latch on to.

"We're almost there," he said quietly, "Just at the end of this hall."

Elissa looked forward and saw nothing. She felt a twinge of envy at Varric. Dwarven eyes could never be trapped in the darkness the way she was. 

Varric slowed before eventually stopping and she could feel the change around her even if she couldn't see it. They had left the hall and its distant echoing behind. The place she stood now seemed smaller, the air stale and musty and the echo of her footsteps muffled against nearby walls surrounding her. They had entered a room.

Her heart thundered in her chest, her blood on edge from the darkness, the anticipation, the sheer strangeness of the whole situation. Reflexively she tried to see something, _anything_ , turning her head to face the darkness that surrounded her.

There was a mirror in the room. It was perhaps ten paces away and in it she must be seeing her reflection. She hadn't felt Evelyn slipping forth with her magic though Elissa's fear must have summoned her because staring back at her was a pair of faintly glowing eyes.

And then her reflection _spoke_.

"Greetings Inquisitor."

Elissa nearly jumped out of her skin. A moment later fire flared to life as torches came alive around the room to allow the occupants to see one another.

A man and woman stood opposite her. 

The woman was heavily clad in a set of imposing jagged armour. A red sash had been affixed across her collar and an impressive looking two-handed blade rested against the wall just behind her. How she could even lift that with all her gear on confounded Elissa, though the blade had to be hers. The man next to her was clearly a mage.

The eyes she had seen and voice she heard had been his, and his irises still maintained their faint glow even now as they eyed her curiously. His blonde hair was mostly pulled back from his face though several strands had come loose and hung haphazardly around his forehead and ears. His robes had the look of a mage with the high collar and feathered shoulders but it was the length of wood and steel held firmly in one hand before him that gave it away with certainty.

"Inquisitor, meet Marian Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall," Varric said excitedly, eyeing them both with an unmasked joy as though his two favourite things were finally under one roof.

"Though I don't use that title much anymore," Marian said softly, her delicate voice at odds with the brutal looking armour she wore.

Elissa hadn't been able to pull her eyes from the mage who still held her gaze curiously. His eyes were glowing. How were his eyes glowing? Did he harbour a fractured soul within him aswell? Solas had said he hadn't heard of this happening before, could they have rustled up another like her so easily? Her mind raced but of all her questions one was paramount.

 _Would he have answers_?

Varric turned back to Elissa before following her gaze towards the mage. Marian looked to her companion with fondness, though she held her whole body tense. Varric cleared his throat. 

"And this is a gifted healer and expert in spirit possession," he said quietly, his former joy now subdued, "Anders."

 _Anders_. She had heard that name. Her eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped in surprise. "You're-" she tripped over the words, "You're the-"

"The mage who destroyed the Kirkwall Chantry," Anders finished for her with a sigh. 

Now Varric's precautions made perfect sense. Half of Thedas wanted the man before her dead. He began the mage rebellion. He started the war with the templars. He ignited the conflict that resulted in the Conclave. There were several hundred mages up above who would probably gladly rip out his glowing eyes to thank him for throwing their lives into chaos.

And now he was in Skyhold. Josephine was going to lose her damn mind.

Marian watched Elissa closely, waiting for her reaction to this introduction. Her blade still rested against the wall only an arms reach away and Elissa doubted she would hesitate to use it against her if she threatened the mage at her side.

The warrior didn't need to be worried. Elissa knew she wasn't in any position to judge. She may not have blown up any buildings but there was still enough blood on her hands to paint the walls of Skyhold. She had killed without remorse for a cause she believed to be just. And she would do it again. And again. And _again_.

All she needed to know now was if her new home was safe from the renegade mage. Despite whatever knowledge he held that could be of interest to her the well-being of the Inquisition had to take priority.

The fact that they had come at Varric's request spoke volumes in and of itself. However she felt about these strangers, she trusted Varric. His trust in them would need to be enough for now.

"Welcome to Skyhold," she said with a polite nod. The air was so thick with tension Elissa could practically taste it on her tongue. No one dared to breathe.

"Please don't blow it up," she added, her lips pulling slightly up into a small grin.

The tension broke around them instantly. Varric just chuckled. Marian audibly let out her held breath before leaning into the mage and snaking her arm around his. She slipped her fingers between his and pressed a kiss against his shoulder.

Anders just stared at Elissa.

"To be honest, I wasn't expecting such a welcome," the mage admitted quietly. 

"Then don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Blondie," Varric chided.

Elissa shrugged. "If you think about it hard enough, you're the reason I'm here," she replied to the mage.

Three pairs of eyes and furrowed brows fell on her. 

"To my understanding you began the series of events that led to the Conclave. Corypheus then blew it up. A mage consequently fell into the Fade and somehow pulled me out of the Void. Now I'm here." 

Anders listened to her and nodded along as if these were all commonplace occurances. Maybe for him they were. "By that logic you should also be thanking Corypheus," he replied.

"Yes, well..." Elissa began with an eye roll, "We got off to a bad start. The first time he and I met he called himself a god, demanded I kneel to him and then immediately tried to kill me."

"That _does_ dampen the relationship, I'll admit," Anders said with a smirk, "Bastard did something similar to us."

Elissa must have misheard him. She thought he just said they had encountered Corypheus before, but that must be impossible. 

Except now Marian was nodding in agreement.

"You have faced him? Corypheus?" She swung to narrow her eyes at Varric, " _What_?"

"I- Yeah. It's complicated," the dwarf said sheepishly, "I asked Hawke here thinking she might have some advice about the darkspawn magister. Blondie decided to risk the journey as well when he heard about your, uhh... guest."

 _So much for keeping my souls secret_ , she grumbled to herself silently.

"As far as Corypheus is concerned, you've already dropped half a mountain on the bastard. I'm sure anything I can tell you pales in comparison," Marian said ruefully.

"But you _have_ faught him before?"

"Faught and killed. He was dead on the floor when I left him. How he could have..." she trailed off, frowning. "I don't know. Perhaps that is why the Grey Wardens put so much effort into simply holding him locked away in the Vimmark mountains."

"The Wardens had him? They _knew_ about him?" Had she known? Were answers locked away in her memories? No. Alistair would have known and he would have mentioned it. Perhaps they had never been privy to that knowledge. However, it _was_ rather unfortunate the Wardens weren't around now to ask.

"They did, until he somehow used his connection to the darkspawn to influence them," Marian said darkly.

"Corypheus can get into a Warden's head. Messed with my mind after only a few hours in the place. He turned the other Wardens stationed there against each other," Anders continued.

Her eyes widened at the mage for a second time. "You're a Warden."

"I am. You though, curiously, are not. How lucky," he mused, mirroring Alistair's sentiment from his first letter.

"If the Wardens have disappeared they could have fallen under his control again," he continued.

"So Corypheus has the Venatori, the Red Templars and now possibly the Wardens as well. _Wonderful_ ," muttered Elissa.

"I didn't come this far just to give you bad news," Marian spoke up. "I've got a friend in the Wardens," her eyes slid to Anders, "One who isn't truant." She turned back to Elissa, "He was investigating something unrelated for me. Last time we spoke he was worried about corruption in the Warden ranks. Since then, nothing."

"Corypheus would certainly qualify as corruption in the ranks. Did your friend disappear with them?" Varric asked.

"No. He told me he'd be hiding in an old smugglers cave near Crestwood."

"If you didn't know about Corypheus' return, what were you doing with the Wardens?" Elissa asked.

"The templars in Kirkwall were using a strange form of lyrium. It was red. I'd hoped the Wardens could tell me more about it."

"We've encountered the red lyrium. Corypheus was using it to corrupt the templars here and turn them into his slaves," Elissa replied.

"Hopefully my friend will know more," Marian responded.

"I appreciate the help," Elissa said truthfully. Marian had brought more questions than she had answered but they seemed to be on the right track.

"I'm doing this as much for myself as for you," Marian replied, her eyes determined. "Corypheus is my responsibility. I thought I'd killed him before. This time I'll make sure of it."

"In the meantime," Anders spoke up as he addressed Elissa, "I think you and I have some things to discuss." The glow had faded from his eyes and she could now see golden yellow irises within.

She nodded. "But not down here," she said, scanning the discarded debris left behind for centuries to rot and fall apart around them. She was eager to return to the light. "If you want to keep out of sight I understand, though I welcome you as a guest of the Inquisition. You will come to no harm here."

He exchanged a look with Marian, who smiled up at him hopefully and nodded. He sighed. "Alright," he said reluctantly, "Though I'm sure I won't make many friends here."


	39. The Renegade

"Can you bring her forth at will?" Anders asked, sipping on a cup of tea.

They had left the bowels of Skyhold and moved to her quarters to be away from prying eyes. However, their presence had not gone unnoticed. Several of the mages milling about the throne room helping with the final touches of its newest decoration had watched their passing with wide eyes and shocked whispers. Marian Hawke was well known and easily recognized alongside her mage companion. Elissa had been pleased to observe that their expressions had not been fueled by rage, but rather acceptance. A few had even brought fists up over their hearts in a sign of solidarity. While Elissa found the display encouraging Anders had only sighed and hurried away from the crowd. Marian and Varric had left them alone to have their discussion in private.

Anders had initially refused to sit upon arrival in her rooms. He paced back and forth while they had exchanged pleasantries, his eyes never straying from the stairs or windows for long. He had eventually settled into the chair next to her which faced the fireplace though it also afforded him a direct line of sight to the steps leading to the only entrance into her room. She had thrown a few extra logs onto the hearth to help chase away the chill that had settled into her quarters during her prolonged absence into the Hinterlands.

Elissa got the feeling the mage didn't find many opportunities to relax. She kicked off her boots and pulled her feet up to tuck them into the cushions of her own chair before picking her tea up from the table between herself and her guest. Slowly his posture relaxed until he was leaning against the padded backing of the chair, his feet stretched out towards the fire burning a few feet away. She was pleased he seemed to finally be at ease as their conversation began to shift from filling him in on her situation to discussing his take on it.

"No," she answered his question honestly. She had tried on several occasions but her mage counterpart could not be summoned on a whim.

"Then it appears she still retains some autonomy, at least," the mage replied as he passed his hand under his cup and the liquid within once again began to steam.

"That makes sense. When she- _Evelyn_ does come through she's certainly someone separate from myself. I just sort of... fade into the background. She's in total control."

Anders seemed to contemplate that, staring into his tea as though it held answers beneath its steaming surface. She turned towards her own tea curious to see if she could rewarm it the way he had. She gingerly lifted a finger to poke the side of the cup but inadvertantly froze the entire thing solid. Her eyes darted back towards Anders but the mage hadn't looked away from his own tea to notice hers. She discreetly set the frozen cup down on the floor behind her as he finaly spoke.

"That has... not been my experience."

Elissa raised an eyebrow and waited for him to elaborate.

"Since Justice and I merged he has always been with me, as much a part of _me_ as _I_ ever was. But he's not so much a bystander as an active participant. We are so closely tied we are both essentially always in control. There's no _taking turns_."

Her heart sank at the words.

"So our situations are completely different."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Do you feel any different? Changed any old long-standing opinions suddenly?"

Elissa just shrugged. "I wouldn't know."

" _Right._ No memories," Anders realised his mistake with a little grimace. He regarded her sympathetically, "You'rejust one anomaly after another."

Elissa let out a long sigh but Anders continued talking.

"My point is, if Justice wasn't able to readily communicate, and _especially_ if I didn't have anything to compare it to from before, I could easily miss the connection entirely. It's basically seamless."

"Seamless?"

"There's not really a distinction between what I feel and what Justice feels. I may react differently to situations than I would have before we merged but trying to differentiate between what I'm feeling and what Justice is feeling would be a tedious endeavour. We function as one."

"You just... agree on everything?"

"Fortunately part of what drew us together was like-mindedness. There have been very few matters we have disagreed on."

"And what is that like? Disagreeing with _yourself_?"

Anders let out a sigh. "Confusing," he said quietly.

Elissa let out a little laugh, though she could tell this discussion made Anders uncomfortable and said the first thing that popped into her mind to change topic. 

"So you think it's possible she's... _Merged_ with me? Like you and Justice? Except I just missed the signs?"

She had never thought of the situation like this before and now the possibility of Evelyn being trapped alone and _aware_ within the confines of her mind troubled Elissa deeply.

" _Maker's Breath_ , do you think she's been here this _whole time_?"

"You described how you experienced her in control. Why should it be any different for her the rest of the time?"

Alone in a mind that wasn't her own without the free will to lift a finger for _months_. Elissa was horrified and hoped _desperately_ that wasn't the case. If not for Evelyn's sake then for her own: she didn't want to be a prison for the person who rescued her from her own.

"Shouldn't I be able to feel someone else inside my own mind?"

"Who's to say you don't?"

"I've only felt her come through-"

"Yes, but what does it feel like when she _isn't_ trying to come through?"

She had no answer for that.

"So you think she's just quietly along for the ride in my head? Just... _watching_?"

"Not necessarily. She may just be unable to communicate. Or maybe you're just unable to listen, or simply don't know how to."

"I- I could _talk_ to her?" _She didn't have to be alone?_

"I don't see why not. Mages innately have a closer connection to the Fade that allows for easier contact with the denizens that reside on the other side of the Veil. Though I've never heard of a living soul, even a fragment of one, possessing _another_ living soul... I don't even know if _possessing_ is the right word to use, but if your situation is anything like a spirit possession a mage should certsinly be able to communicate. As Elissa you're no mage, but as Evelyn you have that talent. You just need to learn to use it."

"How? How do I learn? Can you teach me?" Elissa asked eagerly. 

"I can certainly try," he said with a little smile.

"When can we start?"

* * *

As it turned out when Anders said he could train her he really meant Justice could, though by his own definition there wasn't much difference between the two of them. As Anders' counterpart came forth his eyes regained their ambient glow and Elissa had passively found herself envious of their easy transition.

Unfortunately though, after only an hour she and her teacher together had about as much patience left between them as would fit inside a thimble. 

Justice couldn't fathom how she could obliterate a half a dozen demons at once with a gesture when what he was trying to teach should be immeasurably easier. Elissa could only shrug. She didn't know how she was able to wield the magic, only that it responded when she wanted it to. He had likened her to an expert in Tevinter history who couldn't even find the Imperium on a map.

Elissa was increasingly frustrated at the abstractness of his directions. Reaching towards the veil, sensing the magic floating against the barrier between the waking world and the Fade, none of this meant anything to her even though it felt like it made perfect sense while he spoke. 

Eventually the mage had left but not before giving her some basic exercises to try and practice on her own though even these she struggled with. It all essentially boiled down to the same thing: Meditation. Elissa already wasn't a fan of letting her mind drift into silence and stillness. In fact she had been actively avoiding that since leaving the Void, trying to do it on purpose now was downright brutal. It was only the prospect of being able to talk to Evelyn kept her going.

As the sun drifted down past the mountains she decided to call it a night. It had been a _very_ busy day. Besides, this clearly wasn't something she was going to accomplish on her first attempt but she promised herself she would try again tomorrow. Perhaps Solas or even Dorian would have some other advice that might be easier to follow. She crawled beneath the heavy blankets that covered her bed, settling into their welcoming warmth and hoped her dreams would be pleasant.


	40. Meditation

Elissa spent the next few days practicing her meditation without success. She had gone to each of the mages in her inner circle for advice and they had all showered her with ideas but nothing could change the unease she felt everytime she tried to let her mind drift into stillness. It was too much like the Void. It was too close to being back in _nothingness_.

Dorian had tried to subvert her dread by bringing her to the Tavern. They had sat in a dimly lit corner, away from the main thoroughfare but still close enough that the sounds of laughter and snippets of conversation found their way to her ears. It had definitely stopped her from feeling the overwhelming loneliness, though it had been impossible to focus.

Solas had tried something similar, replacing the sounds of people with nature. They had ventured out of the great walls of Skyhold to a snowy peak nearby. They were far enough away from the castle and the sprawling encampments below that no sounds of civilization met their ears. The wind wiped and pulled at her clothing as the sun warmed her back and an eagle circling overhead let out a series of high-pitched whistling calls. It was calm and it was peaceful but his directions about feeling the Fade were as vague as Justice's had been.

Vivenne was the one to suggest she approach a templar for help, since they may have advice that wasn't directly connected to magic or the Fade. Elissa was a little disappointed she hadn't thought of the idea herself but happily set out to find her favourite ex-templar.

That was how Elissa found herself secluded away in a room located just off of the gardens. Tall narrow windows stretched up towards the cieling with a latticework of iron bars decorating the frosted glass. In the centre resting upon a small dias loomed a statue of Andraste, carved in a simple Fereldan style with her arms lifted up towards the sky. The short wide steps that led the way up to the dias were scattered with candles and their flames added brightness to the room where sunlight did not reach.

Elissa was skeptical at first of this location though she admitted it did make sense. While mages centered their meditation around the Fade, templars were heavily entrenched in the Chantry and focused their attentions towards religion. Cullen had led the way here without question as though another alternative hadn't even occured to him. It did leave her with the distinct impression she had come here to pray, though. Yet, if she was being honest, should Andraste reach down here and now to help her supposed Herald then Elissa would gratefully accept the aid.

Cullen closed the door behind them as they entered the little Chantry though sounds from beyond the reinforced wood still slipped in: A songbird called out for it's mate and the gentle _snip_ of the gardener's shears as the young woman hummed quietly to herself. In a way, she was now following the advice of _all_ of her mage companions.

The ex-templar approached the steps and fell into a practiced pose with one knee dropped to the stone and his hands resting easily on the other. She followed him but opted to sit with both knees against the ground and her legs folded beneath her as she sat on her feet. As she watched the commander from the tail of her eye a curious aprehension fell over her. She let out a little nervous laugh and fixed her gaze on the statue before her, though the imposing sight of Andraste didn't really help.

"To begin-" Cullen spoke causually though in the stillness of the room it carried like a shout. He cut himself off and swallowed before he continued in a softer tone, "To begin, it's important to know where you feel your breath."

Once her attention was drawn to it she instinctually inhaled deeply and felt her lungs expand as she filled them to capacity. The air was tinged with smoke from the numerous candles and carried with it the faint scent of beeswax. She found it soothing and let her breath out in a contented sigh.

Cullen turned towards the sound and smiled down at her. "It might be your nose, your chest or down in your gut," he continued, patting the lower half of his chestplate as he finished. The sound echoed through the little chamber. 

She brought a hand up to her chest and felt the air enter her lungs as she inhaled again. Cullen nodded.

"Normally this is where we are taught to empty our minds of everything except the Maker, though I'm not entirely sure that still applies here."

"This is the tricky part," Elissa admitted in a whisper. "I don't like being alone. I don't like the quiet. If that is what's needed to try and communicate with Evelyn it's no wonder I haven't been able to reach her. I have gone out of my way to avoid anything close to this."

He regarded her softly and when he spoke his tone mirrored his expression.

"You're not alone."

His hand reached across the short distance between them and gripped her shoulder. It was a friendly enough gesture but heat flared through her chest from the contact. She sat up straighter and pulled her shoulders back. 

"No, I suppose I'm not," she replied quietly. 

There was so much she wanted to say to him and she felt every word of it now filling her until she was bursting at the seams. She hadn't found the right time to talk with him since her return from Denerim and her subsequent return from the Hinterlands with the dragon. There was always something else demanding her attention but now, _now_ was her chance. She just had to open her mouth and-

"It- It doesn't need to be quiet, either," Cullen said abruptly. His eyes slid from hers to his hand still gripped on her shoulder and he pulled away somewhat suddenly, clenching the fingers tightly into a fist. He brought the fist back to his knee and eased the fingers apart as he massaged the palm with his opposite thumb.

Her words died behind her lips before should could utter a syllable. Cullen, still staring at his hands, seemed oblivious.

"Meditation and prayer go hand in hand for a templar," he still spoke softly but there was a haste to his words, "Both were always done in the Chantry, usually with someone reciting the Chant in the background to ensure our minds didn't stray."

He finally turned back to look at her but she had taken the moment to compose her face again. She would find the right time to talk later. Right now he was trying to help her and she was barely paying attention.

"So it- It doesn't need to actually be quiet, if you don't want it to be," he finished.

"What are you suggesting?" she asked quietly, ashamed and silently cursing herself for only half-listening to his idea.

"I could recite the Chant for you," he said softly and the scar on his lip twitched as the corner of his mouth pulled upwards with the hint of a smile. 

The night in Highever when Cullen had recited the Chant for her to fall asleep felt like an eternity ago though the memory was still fresh enough to elicit a blush from her even now. Elissa glued her face to the statue before them and only nodded, feeling her cheeks continue to grow hotter with his eyes on her.

Her reaction earned a full smile from Cullen but he politely turned away to follow her gaze towards the likeness of Andraste.

"Just focus on your breathing. Don't rush it. Breathe in. Breathe out. Repeat."

As he began to speak she did try to direct her attention towards her breathing but it was Cullen her mind was drawn to. She closed her eyes and let his words wash over her. The calling bird and gentle _snip snip snip_ of the shears from the garden beyond fell away and ironically it was _his_ breathing she was keenly aware of now. The sound of his brief pauses as he took in a quick breath before continuing, the subtle strain in his voice as he tried to stretch a breath to finish a verse.

She began to unconsciously match her inhales and exhales with his. Slowly the rest of her senses grew dull to the world around her and there was only his voice. Shortly after that, or perhaps not so shortly, she was no longer tracking the passage of time, his words fell away as well until it was just the wordless sound of his voice that swam through her mind.

She could feel herself drifting deeper into nothingness though his voice wove around her like a shroud of armour. She sank until she couldn't even feel her own breathing anymore, nor her heartbeat nor her legs folded beneath her.

It was like this that she first noticed the ripple.

Her attention latched onto it and she reached towards it without fingers or a hand or an arm but she could _feel_ it nonetheless. What exactly she was feeling was far more difficult to process. It was fluid and seemed to somehow be both smooth yet ridged, simultaneously hot and cool and tingly. She pressed into the ripple, causing a new cascade of waves to extend out around her. They met no resistance and seemed to continue their outward trajectory endlessly.

The fluid barrier didn't seem to have an edge and folded around her formless self as she pressed against it but she couldn't pass through. It rebuffed any attempt to breach it.

Tentatively she let her own voice sound within her mind, whispering a single word as both greeting and question.

_Evelyn?_

The silence that followed her words was deafening and Elissa strained her senses sharply to try and hear something, _anything_. It was in this hypersensitive state that a familiar voice rang out through the quiet.

It was neither a whisper nor a shout but was jarring all the same. The shock of it reverberating through her skull completely shattered her concentration.

With a startled gasp she was wrenched from her mind and opened her eyes once again to a room now only lit by candles and a risen moon. The sudden intake of air triggered a bout of coughing and a concerned Cullen was on her in a moment but she waved him off and excitement surged through her. The voice still echoed within her mind, clear as a bell.

 _ **I've been waiting for you, Elissa**_.


	41. A Quiet Moment

Hours had passed since Cullen had first begun to recite the Chant of Light. The sun had long since set behind the mountains. Eventually even the last traces of blue and navy on the horizon had been chased away from the sky as darkness fell over Skyhold. It was a cloudless night and pinpricks of stars illuminated the black expanse beyond the windows of the little Chantry.

He was pleased no one had come to disturb them. Perhaps the gardeners had warned any potential visitors that the Commander of the Inquisition and the Inquisitor herself were within and none had ventured further. He had only thought of posting a guard after they had begun, though he had to admit it felt wrong to bar entry to any seeking solace in prayer. Maybe next time they would seek out a less public area to use.

 _If_ there even would be a next time. It seemed a little presumptuous on Cullen's part to assume his method would be successful where the others had all failed. Even under the guidance of her mage companions each of Elissa's previous attempts to still her mind hadn't worked... including the renegade from Kirkwall.

Cullen _did not_ like having Anders within Skyhold, but Elissa had offered him sanctuary and he had to admit it was pleasant to see Hawke again. If anyone could keep the apostate in check it was her, though Cullen had been keeping a close eye on the man regardless. He absently wondered if perhaps news of his arrival was the reason behind the Chantry's disuse.

As time stretched on Cullen had regretted not bringing along something to drink. He had never intended to be speaking for such a length of time and his mouth was growing increasingly dry. However, it was a minor discomfort and Cullen did his best to ignore it as he continued. As an ex-templar he was well versed in the Chant though even he didn't know it all from heart and had simply started over from the beginning as he exhausted what he knew from memory. Elissa had offered up no complaint. 

In fact she hadn't offered up much of anything. Almost immediately after he started she had closed her eyes and hadn't moved a muscle since. With her feet folded underneath her and her hands clasped in her lap she seemed oddly familiar though he couldn't quite think of another occasion he had seen her sit like this. Regardless, her dedication was actually quite impressive for a novice, and especially for _her_. Cullen was no stranger to hours spent in quiet meditation though he knew this was difficult for the woman at his side.

She had never really gotten into the details with him about what she remembered of the Void and its endless nothingness, but he knew it was never far from her thoughts. He could see it in the way she avoided being the last person in a room. How she took the long way towards her destination after nightfall because it was better lit. How she so willingly embraced being on the road because it meant she wasn't so isolated in her lavish quarters here in Skyhold.

Josephine was a brilliant diplomat but assigning her that space had been a blunder. Cullen knew there were nights she avoided her quiet room, choosing to linger in the tavern instead or conversing with her companions until exhaustion threatened to claim her as she stood. Although Elissa clearly craved human connection she never really stood a chance after accepting the burden that came with the mantle of leadership. The _Inquistor_ couldn't exactly bunk in the barracks alongside the troops. Especially not with her existing reputation and her rank among the nobility. She had been catapulted so high from those around her, people often forgot she was still only human.

He could hardly blame them.

As the daughter of a Teyrn she only a step away from royalty in her own right. But she was also the Hero who killed an archdemon and sacrificed herself to end a Blight. And now she was revered as the Herald who returned from the clutches of death by the hand of Andraste herself to lead the Inquisition... how could anyone believe _that woman_ would unsettled by an empty dark room?

Cullen finished a verse with a sigh. He continued on to the next and regarded the woman as his side without any of his usual guard.

Despite all the little details he knew about Elissa he wasn't entirely sure where he stood with her. At times he had seen a hunger in her eyes that rivalled even his own, though at other moments she looked to him no differently than she had Fergus. He wanted desperately to be there for her should she need him but he was always afraid of crossing a line.

She was the Inquisitor, and they were at war. When she wasn't there it was so easy to prioritize duty before everything else. To place her up on that pedestal, untouchable and unreachable. However the moment she was in the same room as him again and he could see the hours of missed sleep around her eyes... and the way those tired eyes still lit up when they saw him. _Maker_ , there was little he wouldn't do for her if she asked.

Like kneel for hours reciting the Chant. His expression softened towards her even further as his lip pulled up at the corner. She seemed peaceful now which was a relief since he knew the last few days hadn't been easy on her. Judging by her posture he was reasonably certain she hadn't fallen asleep-

_That's what was familiar._

She was sitting exactly like the woman from his dreams. The stranger he had seen a handful of times, always briefly, as she banished a nightmare and sent him instead to a happier memory. She always sat nearby, just out of reach, with her feet tucked beneath her and hands folded neatly in her lap.

He tripped over his words for a moment as he took in the uncanny similarities between the figment of his imagination and the woman of flesh and blood at his side. The way she held her thumb tucked within her opposite palm, how her elbows were slightly raised from her hips, shoulders back, chin lowered... that was all the same. How was that even possible?

He wondered idly if it had been Elissa all this time, if he had conjured her within his nightmares... but no, the face was different. _Similar_ , now that he thought about it, but clearly not Elissa. He was a little surprised he could remember this much detail.

He had no explanation for the gradual, though not unwelcome, intrusion into his dreams. In truth he hadn't paid much thought to them, instead trying to bury the memories as deep as he could. Ironically it was the very nature of his nightmares that prevented him from drifting into sleep hoping she would appear. More often than not he was left to endure the horrors in his dreams alone.

Cullen was jolted from his abstraction as Elissa suddenly gasped at his side. The intake of breath was ragged, like someone breaching the surface after too long underwater. It left her coughing and wheezing as her unfocused eyes raked across the room like she was trying to remember where she was. He reached out to try and calm her, to reassure her, to do _something_ , but she waved him off and hunched forward to catch her breath. This was _not_ how one typically ended meditating... though typically meditating also wasn't a fundamental source of dread for those participating in it.

"Are you alright?" Cullen said softly as her breathing returned to normal he urged himself to speak. He feared the experience may have been too much for her.

Slowly her face turned back up to his but the expression written across it was brimming with unbridled excitement. Her hand reached out and clutched the rim of his chestplate and he could feel her fingers curl behind it against his neck as she tugged him forward fractionally.

"Cullen," she whispered, her voice rasping and raw and completely at odds with her features.

"Cullen, it _worked_."


	42. Searching

Elissa's mind still rang with Evelyn's words as she shared an excited moment with Cullen, her fingers gripping the front of his armour to anchor herself back in the present.

 _It had worked_.

She quickly got to her feet to go find Anders despite the late hour but Cullen made an excuse to return to his office when she tried to pull him along. She lingered halfway to the doorway but resisted the urge to push the matter, knowing full well he wasn't fond of the mage.

When she thought about it she supposed she couldn't hold it against him. Cullen had a slew of unsavoury memories of Kirkwall, Anders being the root cause of many of them. That the commander even tolerated his presence in Skyhold was a blessing.

He seemed to notice her reluctance to leave and the corner of his lip pulled up into a half smile. 

"Go," he said softly, the single word giving her permission to leave the little bubble of serenity that surrounded them. She found herself searching his amber eyes as they gazed back at her so intently, though they gave nothing away.

She reached the door but hesitated with her fingertips grazing the handle. She so desperately wanted to share her news with Anders and Justice but the likelihood of her finding another moment like this to talk to the man with her now seemed slim.

She let go of the handle, inhaled a steadying breath and turned.

Cullen had returned to a kneeling position before the statue of Andraste. His back was to her, his broad shoulders arched forward and his head bowed down. The breath she had taken in a moment ago now slipped from her lips, an unspoken curse upon it.

 _Later,_ she swore to herself.

Her feet carried her swiftly through the gardens and into the wing of the castle where her guests were staying. As Elissa approached the room Anders shared with Hawke she was pleased to see light still flickering from the bottom of the door. Voices sounded from within signifying its occupants were still awake.

"We underwent the Joining together Marian, _I'm going,_ " Anders' voice was low and his tone was final.

"The roads could be dangerous, Anders," Hawke's voice pleaded.

Elissa had raised her hand to knock but paused, unsure if she should interrupt the pair who seemed to be in the middle of something.

Her hesitation was short lived as the chamber door swung open a moment later and she came face-to-face with a pair of glowing eyes. She jumped a little and let her hand, which still hung in the air between them, drop back to her side.

"I- I didn't mean to interrupt," she stammered.

Marian peeked around from behind Anders' shoulder and sighed.

"Maybe you can talk some sense into him," she muttered as she welcomed Elissa into the room.

A fire burning in the hearth bathed the room in warm light and upon the bed rested two travelling satchels. One was packed neatly, the clothing wrapped into tight rolls. The other had been carelessly upended, its contents strewn across the blankets.

"I'm sorry?" Elissa replied, wary of what she had walked into. She had come to announce her success at making, albeit brief, contact with Evelyn but now had stumbled right into the midst of a lover's quarrel.

"I'm preparing to head out in the morning-" Hawke began.

" _We_ _are preparing_ ," Anders corrected.

"To go meet my friend near Crestwood-" she continued.

" _Our_ _friend_ ," he corrected again.

"But Anders wants to come-"

" _Is_ _coming._ "

"Damnit Anders, _enough_ ," Hawke snapped and fixed her mage companion in a hard stare which he met in kind.

"I'm not some invalid to be tucked away and sheltered in the corner," he growled, "I'm more than capable of defending myself."

"That is _not_ what I'm doing and you know it," she said with a frustrated groan. "You have _enemies_ , Anders. They won't just go away because they are inconvenient. It's too dangerous to risk your life just to see that old nughumper."

"Nughumper? _Really_ , Marian? Perhaps you should stay as well, he has clearly been rubbing off on you."

Cullen had been right to find a way out of this. Elissa was tempted to back away slowly and flee this awkward conversation altogether when Anders turned to her. His expression, while still stormy, was more than a little apologetic as he met her gaze. 

"I have friends too," he replied, still addressing Hawke even though he held Elissa's eye. A grin gradually crept across his face. "Fancy a trip to Crestwood, Inquisitor?" 

* * *

Fortunately once the decision had been made that she would accompany them the pair had ceased their bickering.

As she met with her advisors in the morning before their departure she once again lamented leaving before finding an opportunity to actually talk to Cullen.

 _When I get back, I'm going straight to his office_ , she promised herself. _I don't care if Corypheus himself is storming the bloody gates._

Travel to Crestwood had given Elissa more than enough time to discuss her successful contact with Evelyn and Anders shared in her enthusiasm. Now that the first hurdle of opening up a line of communication with Evelyn had been overcome the mage had a new list of tasks for her to practice. While previously she had viewed this kind of work tedious and frustrating she now embraced it wholeheartedly. 

Hawke, however, had remained vigilant during their time on the road and offered little in the way of conversation. Unfortunately the warrior's wariness had proved to be more than just idle anxiety.

On the third day after they left the mountains behind them the small party encountered a group of roving templars. From a distance Elissa could make out brownish-red stains that covered their armour which she assumed to be rust from neglecting to care for their weathered plate. They had appeared ragged from months living off the land and Hawke had wanted to hide until they passed. It was Elissa who took pity on the group of weary travellers and wanted to offer assistance. Others of the Order had willingly followed Cullen to the Inquisition, and she hoped to do the same here.

However, once she got close enough to see their faces she found their eyes to be more feral than human. With a sinking heart Elissa realized it wasn't rust covering their battered armour, but rather that they had simply stopped cleaning away the gore from previous battles altogether. When their gaze had fallen onto Anders they had attacked without hesitation. With a steeled heart and her inherited magic Elissa had made short work of them.

Seeing the Inquisitor in action had lifted Hawke's spirits considerably though the battle had left Elissa with a sour taste in her mouth. The world had twisted them into monsters but the templars may have been good men once. The chaos Corypheus spun about him like a spiderweb had darkened their fates until they were unrecognizable. She loathed the added blood on her hands and wished fervently there had been another way to help them. She was tired of violence being the one and only answer to every problem.

The last two days before they arrived in Crestwood were mostly spent in silence. Even the arrival of rain hadn't been enough to pull Elissa from her morose mood following the fight with the feral templars. It was only the sound of battle as they neared the small town of Crestwood that pulled her attention back to the present from her woolgathering. She urged her mount into a gallop with Anders and Hawke following closely at her heels.

As they rounded a bend in the road Anders let out a curse and pulled back on his reins hard, causing his horse to skid to a halt in the deep mud.

"Grey Wardens," he hissed and Hawke's head snapped towards him as her fingers reached behind her to unclip her great sword affixed to her back.

Elissa spun to look around the landscape but they were alone, the sounds of fighting still some distance away.

"Aren't we here to see the Wardens?" she asked, confused.

"We are here to see _one_ Warden. If there's more then that's trouble," Anders replied as he pinched the bridge of his nose and cursed.

"We don't know for sure that they are in league with Corypheus," she cautioned, unwilling to besmirch a single Warden until she bloody had to.

"No, but they aren't going to be happy to see me," he replied warily. 

"Can we go around the village? Maybe-"

"No," he cut her off, "If I can feel them they can feel me. They know I'm here." He sighed and Hawke pulled her horse up alongside his to squeeze his arm. Despite the fact that the warrior's warnings regarding Anders joining her for this journey had proved accurate _twice_ now she made no attempt to draw attention to it.

"Let's just get this over with," he grumbled and prodded his steed to begin moving forward once again.

Elissa resumed her place at the front of the little party and Hawke fell in beside Anders at his flank, keeping a watchful eye at the rear.

As they moved closer to where the sounds of fighting had been heard only minutes ago the group came upon a number of dismembered corpses laying scattered along the road. They appeared to have been decaying for weeks though the fallen bodies were still sinking into the fresh mud, the signs of recent battle clearly evident around them.

 _Undead_.

Two men stood at the center of the carnage, the rain slowly rinsing away a black sludge from their armour. Elissa easily recognized the heavy plate as the same Blackwall had claimed was his own, though she knew this time the Wardens before her were genuine. One was helping a young elven woman to her feet.

"I'd go back to the village, miss. These roads aren't safe."

The elf nodded vigorously and thanked them, turning on her heel and racing away down the road with a reckless abandon. As Elissa and her companions rode up to the warriors they turned and watched them with impassive expressions.

"Can't say I expected to run into _you_ out here, Anders," the taller one said evenly.

"Likewise," the mage at her side replied. 

"I don't suppose you know where your little friend has scampered off to?" the shorter Warden asked with a sneer.

"You should know full well I haven't been in contact with the Order for years. I haven't any idea what you're on about," Anders replied wearily.

"You little- I should drag you back to Weisshaupt myse-"

He was cut off as his taller partner interrupted.

"We have more important matters to attend to than opposing the combined might of the Champion of Kirkwall and the Hero of Ferelden to detain one truant Warden," the tall warrior growled in warning to his fellow Warden.

The man who spoke turned to her and tilted his head in a silent show of respect but the shorter one seemed to look at her for the first time. His eyes grew into saucers as he saw the symbol of the Inquisition etched into her breastplate. 

" _Maker_ ," he breathed, "You're Inquisitor Cousland."

He shifted his gaze from Elissa to Hawke and visibly paled. Anders smirked and let out a little contented sigh.

"I'm very curious what a pair of Wardens are doing all the way out here," Elissa asked curiously.

"We are searching for a rogue Warden who is wanted for questioning. We heard he passed through here but the villagers knew nothing."

"You're hunting one of your own? _Why_?" she demanded. 

"Warden Commander Clarel ordered his capture," the Warden replied impassively, "I can say no more than that."

Elissa sighed. She knew the Wardens guarded their secrets closely. They wouldn't offer anything else.

She turned to look around at the corpses at their feet. "What happened here?"

"The village is overrun with undead. If the Inquisition can help, I beg you to do what you can. These villagers have already lost too many," he sighed, "We can't stay. Our orders forbid it. Crestwood was only a detour."

She watched the Wardens curiously, keeping the relief from her face at the news that they were already passing on.

"How," the shorter Warden had finally found his voice again, "How have you rid yourself of the Taint?" His words were strained. 

Elissa shrugged, "As far as I can tell, just a side effect of my miraculous ressurection."

The men exchanged a look.

"Good luck with your search Wardens," she said causually as she nudged her mount towards the village and, unbeknownst to the men before her, the very man they hunted.


	43. Crestwood

Crestwood was so saturated in misery Elissa had been surprised to find it occupied at all. The buildings appeared hastily constructed and not at all designed to handle the deluge currently raining down over the sad little village. Repairs had been attempted on many of the rooftops though even Elissa could tell the work was sloppy and the rooms beneath undoubtedly still leaked muddy rainwater.

To make matters worse the village was indeed being plagued by undead. The creatures dragged themselves out from the nearby lake in droves, hurling their decomposing bodies against the meager barrier the inhabitants of Crestwood had erected between themselves and the endless assault. Corpses littered the ground and a pyre had been formed but the rain had long since extinguished the flame. Elissa was certain that if the undead didn't kill them the stench alone eventually would.

Upon their arrival they helped to dispatch a cluster of the undead who were being faught back by two boys barely on the cusp of manhood. Judging by their similar facial features Elissa guessed them to be closely related, perhaps brothers. They had thanked the group for their aid curtly, either too tired or too emotionally strung out to adhear to social courtesy. With a severity that should have been well beyond their years the boys had directed them towards the local mayor. He had explained the cause of the misfortune befalling the community. 

Years ago, as the Blight reached the height of its chaos, Crestwood had taken in wave after wave of refugees fleeing the encroaching swarm of darkspawn. The unfortunate souls had moved into the caverns beneath the village hoping to find protection beneath the earth. Tragically the darkspawn had sniffed them out and massacred the entire population before sabotaging the dam and flooding the entire area. The surviving villagers had been forced to abandon their homes and rebuild away from the flood waters. That explained the poor construction of the buildings, haste had been of paramount importance when the new village had been established.

Now, thanks to a Fade rift opening out over the lake, it was those doomed refugees that clawed their way back up from the depths to assault the village.

Elissa knew that because of the rift this matter was now her responsibility. However even if it hadn't been something _only_ the bearer of the anchor could fix she would have been determined to help these people regardless. Fortunately Hawke seemed to be having similar thoughts as she began to question the mayor about draining the lake to reach the rift.

 _Unfortunately_ , as the mayor explained, the dam controls were only accessible through an old fort which was currently occupied by bandits. At this Elissa and Hawke had shared a knowing look between them. Nothing was ever just _straightforward_.

It had taken a relatively short span of time to clear the fort, Caer Bronach, of its inhabitants. The bandits had initially laughed when two women and an unarmored man approached the main gate. The laughter had quickly faded as Justice came forth with an ominous glow and Hawke slid her formidable sword from its sheath with the threatening _shing_ of steel sliding against steel. When Elissa had obliterated the wooden gate into a storm of splinters with a touch from her fingertips many of the smarter bandits had simply dropped their weapons and fled.

Those that remained ignored Elissa's pleas for surrender and had been cut down with brutal efficiency. As her group made their way up through the fort she could see the carnage they left in their wake on the levels below and had to avert her eyes.

 _They had left me no choice_ , she told herself.

It didn't really help.

Once the bandit leader had joined his hapless brethren Elissa found herself standing atop Caer Bronach staring out at the landscape below. She pointedly ignored the bodies scattered throughout the fort behind her.

The Fade rift above the lake was visible in the distance, its misty green light lazily twisting and weaving itself through the air as if blown by an unseen wind. The thought of venturing down into the dark caverns beneath it, even drained of the water that now flooded them, made Elissa's gut knot itself with unease.

Before that problem could be faced though, the dam needed to be dealt with. The group left the now vacant fort behind them, making their way towards a small outlying structure that housed the dam controls.

Despite what the mayor had told them about the darkspawn attack the controls were still fully functional without so much as a scratch on them. _Curious_. Had the bandits seen to the repair? The great wheel had been stiff at first as she pushed against it, but had given way with some effort. The thunderous groan of spillways opening within the great dam could probably have been heard echoing halfway across the Bannorn.

Guessing the lake would likely take a least day or two to drain and that trying to find Hawke's Warden ally in the rain under the cover of darkness was a foolish endeavour, the group retired for the night within the eerie fort. Surrounded by empty halls and more bodies than she cared to count, it took Elissa hours to fall asleep despite her exhaustion. 

That night she dreamt of an undead army, weary villagers and a young blonde boy speaking with a voice that wasn't his own.

She woke as dawn broke over the horizon, painting the sky into a tapestry of pink and orange hues. Hawke and Anders were already awake, though judging by the circles under their eyes they hadn't slept any more peacefully than she had. Whether it was because of the disturbance Elissa had undoubtably caused or their own demons haunting their dreams she couldn't be sure. None of the trio broached the topic. 

They left Caer Bronach behind them as they continued their search for Hawke's ally. Unlike the Wardens from the day before Elissa's party had the advantage of at least knowing where to be looking. Unfortunantly they also had the disadvantage of not being able to blame orders as a reason to refuse a request for help when they encountered it.

As such it added several hours to their journey but Elissa offered no complaint and neither did her companions. By the time they neared the cave they had been looking for Thedas had been rid of a few more Fade rifts, a squad of Venatori assassins and an entire camp of Red Templars. The lake was also making notable progress. Elissa guessed they may even be able to access the caverns beneath Old Crestwood as early as tomorrow morning, though that information didn't bring her much relief.

The sun had begun its descent towards the horizon as they ventured along an overgrown path that Hawke was certain led to the cave her ally had taken refuge in. Elissa wasn't surprised the Grey Wardens had overlooked the spot, had Hawke not known the signs to look for they likely wouldn't have been able to find it either. A pack of wolves could be heard howling in the distance, lending the disused trail a foreboding ambience. 

At its end they found the unassuming entrance into a cavern under the watchful eye of a rather intimidating stone statue. Elissa didn't have the skill to guess at its age but she did find it curious no moss or ivy had grown upon it. Hawke simply walked past it without a glance though Anders tilted his head towards it almost as if in greeting, a sly smile pulling at his mouth.

The cavern was dimly lit by glowing mushrooms growing along its length, though mercifully it was a short distance before they came upon a door built into the rock. Hawke rapt her knuckles once upon the wood before entering and Elissa quickly followed her into the torchlight within.

The cavern opened up into a wide natural chamber. Dozens of stalagmites and stalactites hung down from the ceiling or grew up from the stone floor. In the middle of the room, nestled in a cluster of the pillar-like formations, burned a bright fire. It chased away the darkness to the furthest reaches of the cavern. It was empty and silent save for the steady _drip drip drip_ of falling water into several pools scattered throughout the rocky chamber.

Elissa made her way into the space and glanced around, though the Warden was nowhere to be found. 

Just then the ground beneath Elissa's feet began to tremble and she feared the cave was on the verge of collapse. In a moment magic was primed in her fingertips to hold any falling rock in place and she spun towards the exit.

It was gone.

Elissa had been standing in the middle of the cave a moment ago but somehow the wall had _moved_ until it was just behind her.

And then it _spoke_.

"It looks the same as it did ten years ago. How is this?"

Elissa's eyes grew wide as they rose up along the wall of stone before her until she saw a pair of jeweled eyes gazing back down at her. She flung herself backwards and tripped over a stone embedded in the ground.

The statue had followed them inside.

And it was _talking_.

"What in the Maker's name," Elissa gasped.

"We talked about sneaking up on people," a dwarf mused as he slid out from the darkness at the edge of the cavern and offered Elissa a hand to help her up.

She ripped her eyes from the talking statue to face this newcomer. His long ginger beard hung in two braids from his chin, the rest of his hair somewhat disheveled atop his head. The rest of his body was covered in heavy plate, partially hidden beneath a worn travelling poncho. From her vantage point she could see the griffon emblem etched into his chestplate when the fabric shifted as he leaned down towards her. His mossy green eyes regarded her with a softness that seemed incongruent with his other unruly features.

"Oghren," Anders greated the dwarf with a tilt of his head. The dwarf grunted in reply.

The mage then turned towards the statue and smiled warmly, "Shale."

"We've brought the Inquisitor," Hawke added, gesturing towards Elissa in introduction.

"We've met," the dwarf said gruffly as he helped Elissa to her feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've been reading this as I've been updating I did say in Chapter 38 that Hawke's Warden ally was Stroud. I changed my mind shortly afterwards to introduce Oghren back into the mix and subsequently removed the line in which Hawke names her ally.
> 
> So if you read this and went, " _wait... what?_ " you're not losing your mind.
> 
> I, however, _am_ losing my mind after trying to make sense of the impossible physics surrounding the dam in Crestwood. I've been forced to accept that the water in Thedas is just _weird_.


	44. The Warden Ally

Elissa felt a familiar disquiet stirring in her belly at the mention that she and this stranger had met before. However, that paled compared to the apprehension she felt towards the living statue in the middle of the room.

It loomed above them all like a small mountain and had be at least as tall as Iron Bull. It could crush her beneath a single rocky foot but it remained still, evidently able to watch the group through the glowing gems embedded in its head.

Her companions seemed to find such a bizarre creature totally normal though, Anders especially seemed to find it interesting. Elissa tentatively dropped her guard a fraction as she let the dwarf help her up.

"I'm sorry," Elissa apologized, still keeping a wary eye on the statue behind him, "I didn't return with my memory in tact. I- I can't remember us meeting before."

"Aye," the dwarf sighed. "I had heard your memory was a touch screwed up."

He stared at her quietly for a moment before turning towards the statue.

"What was it, Shale? 20 Sovereigns if she didn't remember me?"

"It doesn't appear to remember either of us. That was 50," Shale replied stoically.

"Andraste's tits," Oghren cursed under his breath.

Anders let out a snort but Hawke seemed genuinely confused as she looked between them all.

"You've met? I thought the only other Warden to travel with the Hero was King Alistair," she said, her brow furrowed.

"He was," the dwarf explained, pulling a pouch out from under his poncho and counting a number of golden coins into his calloused hand. "I didn't become a Warden until after she kicked the bucket. Did the cowardly mage not mention any of this?"

Elissa had never heard anyone refer to her death so causually and wasn't entirely sure how to respond. 

"Did you know?" Hawke narrowed her eyes at Anders. 

The mage only shrugged. "He did mention it. But he mentions _a lot_ of things. I don't believe half of what that ale-swilling dwarf has told me."

"Not a bad policy," Oghren admitted shamelessly as he handed the coins to his inhuman companion. Elissa could hear the grinding of stone against stone as it moved.

Anders looked at the statue appraisingly, "What you said about the golem appears to be true, though."

Shale stared back at him without expression. Whatever it felt under Anders' scrutiny was hidden behind its impassive stoney features. 

"It wears feathers on its clothing," the golem said after a moment, in a tone thick with disapproval.

Anders glanced down at his shoulders and shrugged. "A lot of mages do," he replied.

"Distastful," it muttered.

Hawke turned towards Oghren, her features once again focused. "We encountered a pair of Grey Wardens outside of Crestwood," she informed the dwarf.

He nodded and picked up a bottle from a nearby table, taking a long swig. "I'm not surprised. Clarel would not have been pleased I snuck off after she recalled us all."

Elissa finally spoke up again, remembering her purpose at coming here in the first place.

"Is that why the Wardens have disappeared? Does it have something to do with Corypheus?"

"Aye," Oghren said, letting out a deep sigh and gently jostling the bottle back and forth before his eyes. It was nearly empty. "When Hawke slew him Weisshaupt was all too happy to put the matter to rest. Foolish bastards. An archdemon can survive wounds that seem fatal," he gestured towards Elissa with the hand that still held the bottle, " _You_ taught me that. I wondered if the blighted monster may possess the same power."

"My snooping turned up few clues, but nothing set in stone. Then," he paused, turning the bottle in his hands, "Not long after, every Warden began to hear the Calling." The dwarf downed the rest of the bottle in a single gulp.

The blood drained from Elissa's face.

" _Every_ Warden?"

Oghren nodded solemnly. 

_Alistair_. He would have mentioned this, wouldn't he have? If he was _dying_? Her mind raced anxiously.

Hawke's eyes grew wide beside her and the woman turned to Anders but he was already shaking his head. 

"I have not heard any Calling," he reassured his lover.

It worked doubly to calm Elissa, even if only a little. Perhaps Alistair had been spared as well.

"You didn't mention any of this," Hawke accused the dwarf.

"It was a Warden matter," Oghren said in a gravelly voice as he returned to the table behind him and poked around beneath it. "I do _occasionally_ keep my oaths." Empty glass bottles rattled against one another until he pulled one still full out with a satisfied grunt. He pried the cork out with his teeth in a well-practiced motion.

"If the whole order is hearing the Calling... they all think they're dying," Elissa said in a horrified whisper.

"Likely because of Corypheus," Anders theorized. "We already know he can get inside our heads. It makes sense. Without the Grey Wardens who will stand against the next Blight?"

"So then the Wardens do something desperate, which is of course, what Corypheus wants," Hawke ruminated aloud, continuing Anders' line of thought.

"Wardens are the only ones who can slay archdemons. Without a Warden the next Blight would consume the world." Shale spoke without emotion, making what it said that much more disturbing. Silence fell in the wake of its words. 

After another swig from his opaque bottle Oghren was the first to speak.

"Warden-Commander Clarel spoke of a blood magic ritual to prevent future Blights before we all perished."

" _Blood magic_?" Elissa exclaimed.

"When I pointed out that idea was _bloody lunacy_ my own comrades turned against me," the dwarf growled, "So here I am." He gestured to the cavern and took another drink.

"The Wardens are planning to gather in the Western Approach, at an old Tevinter ritual tower. I was going to head there to find some answers."

Elissa nodded. "We should report back to Skyhold. This is a lot of news to process." _And I need to write to Alistair._

Oghren grunted his ascent. 

They spent the night in the cave, not daring to travel back to the village with Oghren in case the other Wardens came back sniffing around. No one suggested another night in the recently unoccupied fort.

Elissa listened to Oghren and Anders reminisce about their Joining and it wasn't long until she was pulled into the conversation. She had apperantly met Oghren in Orzammar and the dwarf filled in some details about their journey into the deep roads which Leliana hadn't mentioned. Elissa questioned the legitimacy of every single word, though it made for a dramatic tale.

She also learned Shale was indeed a woman, and had once even been a dwarf. Leliana had told her about the Anvil of the Void, but never said she had befriended one of its constructs. Elissa had found Shale in Honnleath, rescuing her from decades of being trapped frozen in place. Elissa got the feeling she and the golem bonded over their shared experience of losing the memory of their past lives but with her expressionless features Shale was rather difficult to read. 

In the morning the whole party descended into the old village of Crestwood, the rift needing to be dealt with before they could return to Skyhold. With the five of them, Elissa hoped it would be a quick trip. Each step towards the drowned caverns filled her with a growing dread.

"It seems worried," Shale had pointed out.

"I don't like the dark," Elissa admitted quietly. No point in keeping it a secret. 

As they descended into the damp caves Shale displayed an interesting ability. The gems affixed to her shoulders and hands could be made to glow brightly enough to bathe the entire space around the golem in a brillance not unlike an afternoon sun. Elissa had grinned at Shale in speechless gratitude but the golem had only stared back with her usual stoic impassiveness.

They were out of the caves in under an hour, the rift successfully sealed.

Though as Elissa emerged back into daylight once again it was not relief that coursed through her. 

It was _rage_.

The mayor had _lied_. She should have known something was amiss when the dam controls had been unscathed. It wasn't darkspawn that had murdered the refugees seeking shelter within the caves... The poor souls had still been breathing as the tunnels filled with water. She had found the place they had run to in a desperate attempt to flee before drowning in the darkness.

Fearing for their lives, confused and lost before being deprived of sight, then sound, then the very air from their lungs. The thought of their tragic fates sent Elissa over the edge.

She was _fury itself._

Elissa marched with a determined pace towards the village, feeling Evelyn's magic stirring in response to her anger. The mayor was going to give her answers. Justice was already emanating from Anders and matched her stride.

Hawke stepped forward and blocked their path.

"You both need to calm down," she said quietly. 

"Marian," Justice said sternly, "Step aside."

She narrowed her eyes but held her ground. 

"Don't make me do this, Anders," she warned.

"The mayor was involved in what happened down there," Elissa growled.

"I don't doubt that," Hawke agreed, "But we aren't going to talk to him like _this_." She gestured between the pair of them.

Elissa exchanged a look with Justice before they both moved to step around the warrior blocking their path.

The next thing Elissa knew she was on her back, gasping to fill her lungs with air that had suddenly vanished from them. Evelyn's magic was gone, even the magic she usually had access to was inaccessible. She rolled onto her side to find Anders in a similar state and Oghren bellowing with laughter behind him.

"You didn't have to _silence us_ , Marian," Anders coughed, Justice no longer in control.

"I've found nobody listens anymore once they start _glowing_ ," she muttered. She looked at Elissa warily.

"Sorry, Inquisitor."

"I suppose I deserved that," Elissa groaned with a growing embarrassment at her behaviour. It wasn't the first time she had lost control, but it was the first time she had been brought to heel so forcefully.

Oghren was still wheezing with laughter, dramatically wiping tears from his eyes. "Oh that was beautiful," he chuckled.

Shale just watched them all impassively, as usual.

The mayor was nowhere to be found anyway. His house was empty save for a letter detailing his guilt regarding what had transpired ten years ago. He had been the one to flood the village when the darkspawn had attacked, sacrificing the refugees to stop the monsters themselves and the fatal infection they had spread throughout the population within the caves. He couldn't bear to look upon his old home now that the lake had been drained and as such had left.

Elissa crumpled the letter within her fist. Unfortunantly for the mayor she had the resources of the entire Inquisition to track him down and bring him to justice. _And she would do just that_. 

With matters settled in Crestwood it was time to finally return to Skyhold.


	45. Important

While Elissa and the group made their way back towards Skyhold she began to mull over what she was going to say to Cullen.

 _Finally_.

As the fortress nestled deep in the Frostback Mountains finally came into view she felt her heart began to thump against her ribs in nervous anticipation. Distracted as she was it wasn't until Hawke made a comment that she drew her attention down towards the sprawling rows of barracks at the foot of the mountain.

Their forces had grown _considerably_ in her absence. From this distance she could just make out that the livery worn by this new addition wasn't typical of the clothing worn by the Inquisition. Had the clothiers run out of materials? She strained her eyes but couldn't make out any more detail than that. 

As they approached the main path leading up towards the colossal bridge that led into the stronghold a messenger was quickly making the descent to meet them.

"Inquisitor," the young woman panted, coming to an abrupt halt before Elissa's horse.

The Inquisitor nodded her head towards the encampment at the base of the mountain, "What's going on down there?"

"It's the Fereldan Army, my lady. They arrived two days ago to pledge their aid to the Inquisition."

"The Fereldan Army?" she said, unable to keep her tone steady. It was unbecoming for a leader to be incredulous in the face of support but this caught her entirely unprepared.

 _Alistair had sent her his army_.

"Not only that," the messenger continued, speaking hastily as she caught her breath, "The King of Ferelden himself led them here."

"King Alistair is _here_?" Elissa's jaw hung agape, all pretense of propriety lost as her mind reeled.

"In Skyhold, yes. Ambassador Montilyet assigned him quarters in the main hall."

 _Assigned him quarters_... "How long is he planning to stay?"

"Until Corypheus is good and dead, my lady."

"Easier said than done," Anders muttered under his breath and Hawke sighed.

 _Well shit_.

So much for having time to sort this out. Elissa replayed her last meeting with Alistair over in her head. She had assumed he meant she could get to know him again _after_ the ancient magister was dealt with. Her mind was equally thrilled at this development as it was horrified. She still hadn't talked with Cullen and now... _Maker's Breath_. This was a flaming bloody mess.

It was Oghren who was first to nudge his mount forward again up the sloping path. With a grizzled laugh his voice drifted back down to Elissa.

"So many of us back under one roof and the world going ass-over-tea-kettle? It's just like old times."

A plan began to form in her mind and she urged her mount up the path at a gallop. If a messenger had already been sent to inform her about the Fereldan Army they knew she was back. She just needed to buy herself a few minutes.

She flew through the gates and led her horse towards the stables, causing several people to hastily get out of her way. Typically upon her return she was drawn into the war room to report to her advisors. While she _did_ want to meet with one of her advisors, she wanted to do so without an audience. 

Blackwall glanced up to see her as she charged into the stables, her horse letting out a derisive snort in protest. Noticing her hurry he leapt up to accept the reigns from her as she slid from the saddle.

"Stall them," she said quickly, gesturing to the messengers who were already approaching the stables.

"Yes, my lady."

* * *

The door to Cullen's office opened abruptly and the commander was pleasantly surprised when a panting Elissa barrelled into the room. He hadn't realized she was back from Crestwood and judging by the armour she still wore she had only just returned.

"Welcome ba-" he began but she cut him off swiftly.

"You never saw me," she hissed with a pointed finger before she scrambled up the ladder towards his quarters.

Cullen sat dumbfounded as he watched the Inquisitor hurl herself onto the second floor just as the door to his office opened again.

A messenger entered, glancing around the office in confusion before seeing Cullen and standing at salute. "Did the Inquisitor just come through here?"

"I wasn't aware she was back," Cullen replied flatly. He was eager to find out what was going on, but the messenger needed to leave first. Pointedly keeping his gaze from the second floor he fixed the man in a deliberate hard stare.

The man swallowed and took a step back. "Sorry to disturb you, Commander," he said quickly as he backtracked out of the door he had entered through.

Cullen stood from his desk and stretched before approaching the ladder. He glanced up curiously, a smile pulling at the corner of his lip, and he began his ascent with growing excitement. He was always excited when she returned from weeks abroad. 

As he pulled himself over the threshold he found her standing off to the side, out of sight from his office below, and staring at the hole in his roof.

"I've never been up here," she said as he walked across the room to join her. She turned and smiled at him and his heart started to beat a little faster. "I could fix this for you, if you'd like," she offered, pointing at the roof.

"Thank you, but no. I prefer it this way," he admitted, watching her curiously.

She turned to look around his room before glancing back to the broken roof and finally back to him again.

"I think I understand," she said softly, meeting his eye. "It's not quite so confining like this."

Cullen just stared at her, speechless. She hadn't been the first person to offer to fix it, Josephine tried to send in a carpenter every other week, but Elissa had been the first to guess at the reason he kept it the way it was. And she had guessed _right_. 

He had spent enough time confined in Kinlock Hold against his will. He longed for open spaces as much as she craved company and light.

He took a step towards her but faught the impulse to pull her to him.

Instead he changed the subject. 

"What's going on? Why are you dodging messengers?"

Her expression changed in an instant and Cullen bit back a grimace.

"I needed to talk to you," she spoke quietly, barely above a whisper and no longer met his eye.

With a sinking feeling Cullen guessed this had something to do with Alistair's arrival in Skyhold. Perhaps she had arranged it with the king during her brief visit to the capital. He braced himself for her immanent rejection as she turned back to hold his gaze.

"Alistair told me something in Denerim," she said hesitantly, her jaw tight.

Cullen surpressed a sigh and nodded. "You were betrothed," he said softly.

Her eyes widened at his words. " _You knew_?"

He deeply regretted not making his presence known all those weeks ago in the spymaster's office. He should have come clean sooner.

"I- Yes," he admitted sheepishly, ashamed with himself. "I overheard you, ahh, _mention it_ to Leliana upon your return from Denerim."

Her expression was unreadable as she stared at him and raised a single eyebrow.

"I wasn't eavesdropping," Cullen said quickly, "As soon as I realized it was a private conversation I left immediately."

"What else did you hear?" she asked, watching him closely.

_He's important to me._

"Nothing of consequence."

She continued to search his face as she let out a long sigh and punctuated it with a soft, _hmm_.

"So I've been dancing around you trying to find the right moment for weeks to tell you something you already knew the whole time." She closed her eyes as she pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers and shook her head.

At least he had avoided this moment for that long.

"With Alistair here now I understand if you want me to... keep my distance," he said, keeping his words steady and the dismay he felt from his voice.

Her eyes snapped open to his and panic flared behind them.

"What?! _Maker's Breath_ , Cullen. _No,_ " she said quickly, "That is definitely _not_ what I want."

His breath caught in his throat.

"This is a mess," she groaned quietly to herself, burying her face in her palm.

He lifted his arm and gently grasped her elbow, easing the hand from her face. As she peeked up at him he gave her a nod of encouragement.

"Just say what you need to say, Elissa."

She stared at him quietly for several breaths before she spoke again.

"Alistair is tied to me one way or another, admittedly. Even if I can't remember him he is too _familiar_ to ignore. But Cullen, you're..."

She let out a strangled groan.

"I couldn't have done _any_ of this without you."

A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth in response to her words. She watched the movement and sighed.

"I have no problem making decisions. I make life and death decisions daily. But this? I can't decide _this_."

Cullen was equally flattered and confounded that he could be such fierce competition against royalty. He absently wondered if it was treasonous to hope for his own monarch's downfall. In his mind her decision should be simple but for whatever reason she still couldn't just set him aside.

 _He's important to me_.

"At any rate, he has already guessed you're more important to me than just an advisor," she continued, sending a shiver through him as she mirrored his thoughts. "It's only fair you know the truth about him as well."

She looked to him apologetically.

He stared back at her, trying to find his words.

"You said that..." he whispered softly, "I'm important to you." It felt surreal to be saying those words aloud to her. 

"Cullen," she said with a smile, her eyes soft as her voice wrapped his name in velvet.

" _Of course_ you're important to me."

Cullen's body moved of its own accord.

He took another step forward, drawing himself close against her. One hand found her chin, gently nudging it upwards with the side of his index finger and his thumb grazing across the skin of her lower lip. The motion caused her to gasp ever so slightly as her breathing hitched and her lips parted with the intake of air. A fire unfurled within Cullen at the little noise.

Her gaze, now brimming with every ounce of hunger that filled his own, dripped down his face to his scar. Her eyes followed it until they rested on his lips and her irises were barely visible beneath her lashes.

He felt her shift beneath him, her hands finding the backs of his forearms, and anchoring herself against him. He could smell the faint scent of flowers from her hair, even after days on the road. He inhaled deeply and the grip on his arms tightened as the fire flared deep within him.

She hadn't rejected him.

He was _important_ to her.

His free hand found the back of her head, gently moving the hair aside to cup the base of her neck. The hand against her chin tilted her face up further towards his and he leaned down to close this last bit of distance between them.

Then the door to his office opened.

They froze as they listened to footsteps approaching the ladder below and Cullen actively wanted to take whoever had interrupted this moment and cast them from the battlements.

"I've stalled as long as I could," Leliana's voice carried up from below, "You are both required in the war room."

Elissa's gaze lingered on his lips for a moment more before they found his eyes once again. She smiled sadly as he let out a sigh and let his forehead rest against hers.

"We'll be there in a moment, Nightingale," he called out.

Cullen reluctantly dropped his hands from her and shifted back a step.

Elissa moved like lightning, her hands releasing his arms and finding his face, preventing his retreat. Her eyes locked onto him, her expression intense as she searched his. With a little smile she pulled him down and placed a kiss against his forehead before sliding her lips down to his ear.

"Next time," she whispered conspiratorially and let go of him. With a wink she crossed the room and stepped over the ledge, ignoring the ladder entirely, and landed with a soft thud on the floor below.

He watched her go, his heart thundering in his chest.

 _Maker's Breath_.

Suddenly the prospect of facing the king wasn't quite so insufferable. 


	46. A Gathering of Heros

Elissa didn't wait for Cullen before she left his office and made her way towards the war room. The courage that had fueled her bravery vanished the moment she left his side. Her cheeks had certainly been scarlet as she landed beside Leliana, though the red haired woman had showed no outward sign of judgement. The two of them hadn't spoken beyond the confines of the war room since her return from Denerim. Truth be told Elissa was still angry, even now.

As she made her way through the throne room its occupants were enthusiastically discussing the arrival of King Alistair. Elissa shared in their excitement, even if it meant her life was going to become exponentially more tumultuous. Despite only just finishing her conversation with Cullen, and very nearly kissing the man, she was anxious to see the golden haired king. Guards bearing Fereldan colours had been posted outside of Josephine's office, though they made way for her to enter without a word.

She hurried up the steps towards a growing volume of voices conversing behind the door at the end of the hall. As she poked her head into the war room the cause of the raised voices became obvious: All of her inner circle were present, save for Leliana and Cullen, who would be arriving momentarily. Curiously, Shale was also absent, leaving Elissa unable to compare the golem's height against the similarly mountainous bulk of Iron Bull. With this crowd the commotion was enough that when she slipped into the room her arrival went unnoticed.

Fortunately for the Inquisitor that meant no one saw her jaw hit the floor in an utterly embarrassing display of awe.

Elissa had seen several versions of Alistair since she met him in Highever: The road-weary traveller, the battle-hardened warrior, the heartbroken almost-widower. What she had never seen before, however, was _the King of Ferelden_.

The man who stood among her companions now was every inch a monarch. A fine wool cloak, even finer than the one he had gifted her, hung down to the floor around his tall frame. The luxurious russet fur that spanned the length of his broad shoulders matched his eyes so perfectly Elissa wondered who had selected the article for him. She doubted Alistair would have cared for such an aesthetic detail but the impression it left was captivating.

The outfit beneath the cloak was just as regal. Supple brown leathers, stitched with precision and lined with pristine white fur. The clothing, while clearly comfortable, still offered a degree of protection and padding in true Fereldan style. An ornate sword hung from his hip, the hilt glittering in the sunlight and the pommel an enameled display of artistry portraying the Royal Theirin crest.

Paramount to the rest of his attire the true mark of his title rested atop his head. The golden crown, bereft of glamorous adornments but still beautiful in its simplicity, looked heavy but Alistair bore it with ease. 

Elissa watched him quietly from the edge of the war room. He was having an animated discussion with Oghren and Solas... What those three could possibly find to talk about baffled her, but they all seemed to be enjoying themselves. She took the moment of her unnoticed presence to be a fly on the wall watching her friends, both old and new, interacting. 

She was enjoying a rather scandalous display between Zevran and Dorian when the door to the war room opened with a shuddering _creak_ and Cullen entered with Leliana. 

Alistair's head had snapped to the noise. Something dark flashed across his face when he saw the commander, though it quickly faded into confusion. The king immediately began to scan the faces within the room. 

So Alistair knew she had been with Cullen, judging by his confusion at the commander entering without her. Elissa's stomach knotted itself a little at the thought.

It wasn't long before his eyes found her, standing off to the side unassumingly. He grinned at her warmly, cocking an eyebrow. Before she could even be embarrassed of the blush creeping up her cheeks she felt something wet lick her fingers and she recoiled in shock, looking down towards _whatever_ had slobbered all over her hand.

It was a Mabari.

The beast stared at her intently, its little nub of a tail wagging excitedly. She watched it curiously, tilting her head to the side and it mirrored her movement. All at once the warmth of returned memories flowed through her.

"Fen'Harel!" she shouted joyfully and the beast let out a happy bark.

Solas nearly spluttered a mouthful of wine across the room. His eyes narrowed at her.

Elissa grimaced. Perhaps it was a little inappropriate to have her hound named after an ancient elven god, especially since she was no elf. 

"That _Mabari_ is named _Fen'Harel_?" the proud elf asked, not entirely unkindly, as he walked towards her. She nodded meekly.

"It started as a nickname the kitchen staff in Highever gave him as a pup, and it sort of stuck," she explained, bending to scratch the beast's belly as it rolled on its side. "He was just as at home down in the servant quarters as he was in the Teyrn's own chambers." She didn't know much about elven history but she could remember the reason behind her Mabari's name.

Solas' expression was enigmatic as he stared at her thoughtfully until a smile crept across his features. He walked up to the Mabari and crouched before it, offering his hand. The beast sniffed it once then sat back on its haunches and returned Solas' stare. 

"Dread Wolf indeed," the elf murmured, reaching out to gently scratch the dog's head with his long fingers. The Mabari let out a little yelp of contentment.

A hand on her shoulder signified Alistair had come to join her at her side and she stood quickly. She made brief eye contact with Cullen across the room and he gave her a little half smile before returning to his conversation with Hawke.

"Fen has been with me in Denerim," Alistair said softly, "He wasn't happy I didn't bring you to him when you were there."

Elissa turned her face to the king and felt her chest grow tight.

 _Maker's Breath._ Watching him from across a crowded room was one thing, but having the full weight of his attention focused on her was another sensation entirely. The man was _breathtaking_.

"I wasn't expecting you to come to Skyhold," she admitted, a little breathlessly, though the heat she could feel traitorously turning her cheeks crimson made it clear his arrival was welcome.

"I've always preferred to save the world in a more hands-on capacity," he grinned. "Denerim is safe in Eamon's capable hands."

"Besides," he continued, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that only she could hear as he leaned closer to her ear, "I could think of no better place to be."

She was going to combust right here in the middle of the war room. How fitting.

The hand on her shoulder gently brushed the hair from her neck. From the corner of her eye she caught the king's look of mild surprise as he noticed the familiar chain resting there.

"You kept it," he murmured contentedly.

"It _is_ mine," she noted.

He just continued to smile softly, his fingers resting casually against the nape of her neck. Elissa leaned into the touch slightly before remembering where she was and with a sigh reluctantly stepped out of his grasp.

Alistair's hand dropped to rest on the pommel of his sword and he seemed somewhat disappointed with the broken contact.

She took another breath to clear her head. _What had she been so eager to ask him?_

"Alistair, have- Have you begun to hear the Calling?" she asked quickly, the words tumbling from her lips as she searched his face for any clue that he had been keeping this horrible secret from her.

He shook his head as his brows knitted together in confusion. Elissa felt the tightness around her heart loosen a fraction.

The softness vanished from his voice as he returned her question with one of his own. "Why do you ask?"

"The Wardens, they've all begun to hear it. _At the same time_."

His expression grew serious, the implication of her words not lost on him. The king stared at her in silence for several heartbeats as he considered the ramifications of her news.

"Commander," Alistair's voice rang out through the room and everyone fell silent in its wake, "I believe it's time to get this meeting underway."


	47. The War Room

The news Oghren had to share was troubling indeed. That it was Alistair's former ginger dwarf companion delivering that news was another matter entirely.

The king was having some difficulty reconciling the drunkard he had known ten years ago with the _almost_ respectable dwarf before him now. He had heard Oghren had undergone the Joining in Amaranthine after... _after_ , but he hadn't been in contact with him since.

Even back then he hadn't been entirely sure how he felt about the dwarf joining him in the Grey Warden ranks. It was _Oghren,_ after all. Could ten years have really changed that much?

Following a comment about his drinking the dwarf had lobbed an empty bottle towards Alistair's head.

"If you have a better suggestion to quiet the Calling I'm all ears, pretty boy," the unruly dwarf had barked.

 _Definitely still Oghren_ , Alistair mused to himself.

Discussion about the Calling itself had been wrought with speculation. Most of those present within Skyhold's war room were unfamiliar with the Warden term and Alistair felt a writhing discomfort speaking about such closely guarded Warden secrets. However, the discussion had brought forth a number of questions. 

Why _weren't_ Anders or Alistair hearing it? Hawke had suggested whatever had transpired in the Vimmark Mountains had broken Corypheus' hold over Anders, but what of Alistair? He had no answers beyond the truth that he had become so far removed from the Order perhaps he simply had been overlooked.

As if he should be so lucky.

The king felt a growing unease about what was transpiring in the Western Approach. He had only ever known Clarel to be a reasonable woman, but given enough desperation even the most level-headed people could become reckless. _Blood magic rituals._ Could the Order have really fallen that far?

Could Alistair really judge them?

The Grey Wardens did what was _required_. They weren't bound by honour as much as an unrelenting sense of duty. The rest of Thedas could grumble about their decisions all they wanted but the Wardens stood apart from it all. They didn't need permission to act.

Alistair knew his separation from the Order had been born of circumstance, though he regretted that he was so infuriatingly uninformed about his brethren.

He turned his gaze on Elissa. She stood to his side at the head of the war table as she led the gathering, directing the discussion with a skill in leadership he had watched her hone over months during the Blight. Skills not unlike those he had been forced to master during his reign as King of Ferelden. He had always envied how easily it had come to her.

Cullen stood at Elissa's other side, his brow furrowed as he stared at the various maps laid out before him. The Inquisitor had decided to travel to the Western Approach herself, and the commander was responsible for ensuring the way was clear for her. Alistair had to admit the ex-templar was a brilliant strategist. The king had kept a close eye on Inquisition movements since before their arrival in Skyhold and rarely had Cullen acted differently than Alistair would have himself.

Though none of that made the way the man looked at Elissa any easier to bear. Alistair knew she had grown close to the commander, evidently even more so than what he had seen in Highever. That she had gone to him first upon returning to Skyhold bothered the king more than he cared to admit.

And yet she still wore the ring around her neck, just as Alistair had himself for the past decade. He had felt its absence like a weight since she left Denerim, but learning it hung next to her again-beating heart soothed him.

"I'll leave as soon as preparations can be made," Elissa announced.

Cullen's eyes darted to her quickly but he bit down whatever he had been about to say.

"I'll join you," Alistair said assertively. The Western Approach was well outside of his kingdom, but this was a Grey Warden matter. That had no boundaries.

"I'll leave with Shale in the morning. We'll meet you there," Oghren added. "I want to get a lay of the land."

"Shale is here?" Alistair asked the dwarf. He hadn't seen the golem.

"Aye. She went to go speak with the arcanist. _Dagna_ ," the dwarf said with a throaty chuckle.

"Dagna? _Little Dagna_? The dwarf?" Alistair was surprised, albeit more than a little proud.

Elissa looked confused.

"We met her in Orzammar," he explained. "She desperately wanted to learn about magic. We helped pave the path for her to the Circle."

"A dwarf. _In the Circle_. I thought that was impossible," she said with deepening confusion.

"As did we all. She was _very_ persistent. If she has joined the Inquisition the girl has done very well for herself," Alistair said, amused.

Cullen let out a groan. "So I have you to thank for her."

"She was quite the cheerful little thing when we knew her," Alistair said defensively.

"Oh she's still cheerful. I'm just concerned she'll cheerfully blow up Skyhold with one of her experiments," Cullen continued with a sigh. When Elissa turned to him he shrugged his shoulders and added, "The risk is small at present."

Alistair grinned in spite of himself. The thought of _Dagna_ antagonizing the commander delighted the king to no end.

"If we are done here, I believe I have some old friends to catch up with," Alistair announced.

"I should pay a visit to the Undercroft myself, I'll show you the way," Cullen offered, "Maker knows what Dagna has gotten up to with another Warden."

Alistair smirked. "Shale is no Warden, Commander."

Cullen turned from gathering a stack a papers to fix the king in a hard stare.

"Shale is a _golem_." Alistair was positively beaming as the commander visibly paled and turned to Elissa.

"By your leave, Inquisitor." She nodded distractedly.

Cullen abandoned the papers and moved towards the door as the rest of the room began to disperse.

Alistair, still grinning, started to follow the commander until a small hand clutched at his arm.

He turned to see Elissa, her fingers wrapped around a bunch of cloth from his cloak, warily looking up at him.

"I knew Dagna?" she asked quietly. 

Alistair smiled softly down at her, "Yes. I'm surprised she hasn't mentioned it."

Elissa looked ashamed. "I haven't been to down to see her. I- _I didn't know_ -"

"Come with us. She will be pleased to see you, I promise," Alistair said encouragingly, easing her hand's grasp from his cloak and lifting her knuckles to his lips. Her eyes widened in brief surprise before her cheeks bloomed a beautiful shade of pink.

 _Maker's Breath_. His heart swelled at the sight.

Elissa seemed dubious but allowed herself to be guided forwards as Alistair released her hand to place his own against the small of her back.

Cullen stood waiting at the door, pacing in place from one foot to the other. He was obviously anxious to go interrupt whatever Dagna was scheming up with a _golem_. Alistair kept his stride slow on purpose and, with some effort, his face straight.

The commander led the way out of the war room and once it was just the three of them in the hallway the air grew tense. Cullen faced determinedly forward though Alistair had noticed the furtive look he had cast quickly at the hand resting against the Inquisitor's back. Elissa was moving without encouragement now but Alistair's own pride kept his hand firmly in place.

As the trio crossed the throne room Alistair was once again awed by the high dragon looming above them. He had fought such a creature with Elissa not far from where they were now, buried deep in the Frostback Mountains. It wasn't a fond memory.

He caught Cullen's eye briefly and a glimmering of understanding passed between the two men: Neither of them were particularly enthusiastic about Elissa fighting _dragons_. That much, at least, they could agree on wholeheartedly. 

By the time they reached the fortified door to the Undercroft Alistair could feel the trembling beneath his feet announcing Shale's presence. The tenious commraderie between the two men vanished as Alistair once again fought back his grin anticipating Cullen's introduction to the golem.


	48. The Golem and the Arcanist

Cullen was back home in Honnleath. 

Except that was impossible because he was certain his feet were still firmly planted on the stone floor of Skyhold. The only answer then, was that Honnleath had _come to Skyhold_. He stared up at the familiar towering bulk of stone before him, speechless.

"Its face is known to me," the statue rumbled. The very same statue that had adorned the courtyard of his childhood village during all the years he lived there.

Cullen's mouth moved but no words came out.

"We met him in the Fereldan Circle," Elissa explained, her concern teetering terribly close to amusement. Cullen snapped his jaw closed and swallowed hard.

"No. Before that. It was _smaller_ ," the statue, Shale, continued. Its gemstone eyes seemed to stare into Cullen's very core.

Elissa's eyes widened in a mix of surprise and excitement. "Honnleath!" she announced, earning a confused look from the king.

"It _hit_ me with sticks," Shale said darkly.

"I was a _boy_ ," Cullen defended himself as his voice finally returned, though it maddeningly cracked on the word _boy_.

" _With sticks_ ," the golem repeated. 

"I was practicing swordplay," he explained futilely.

"I rather hope it has improved since then," Shale said flatly.

" _Maker's Breath_. That was over _twenty years ago_ ," he groaned, reflexively reaching behind him to scratch at the back of his neck.

Alistair let out a snort of laughter causing the golem to turn to him.

"I'm pleased to see it no longer carries itself with the perfunctory disregard of a weak-minded degenerate." Shale's words were delivered without emotion but Cullen was certain the line was meant to be delivered with sarcasm.

Either that or Shale was the single most _blunt_ entity the commander had ever encountered. He wasn't ruling anything out yet.

"And I'm pleased to see your time with Oghren hasn't dampened your extensive vocabulary," Alistair smirked in reply.

Shale stared at the king for a moment.

"This castle has birds," it said flatly. 

Alistair grinned, "If you ask nice enough maybe Elissa will assign a few archers."

Shale turned to the woman at Cullen's side, though Elissa mirrored in the commander's own confusion.

" _Birds_?"

Alistair shrugged, "Shale has a thing about birds."

"I do not have a " _thing about birds_." I have an extremely justified rage of the flying vermin that plague this world," the golem responded heatedly.

Alistair only shrugged again as if her statement proved his point. Which, truth be told, it sort of did.

Before Elissa, or Cullen for that matter, could respond regarding the request to assign archers to shoot down the birds within Skyhold a small voice sounded from behind the golem.

"Hello there."

A dwarf stepped from around the bulk of Shale's legs and waved shyly, her eyes fixed on Elissa.

"You're _her_ ," Dagna breathed.

Elissa looked at the dwarf with chagrin.

"I'm sorry I didn't come to see you sooner," she said timidly, glancing at Alistair, "I'm told we knew one another."

Dagna only shrugged off Elissa's apology, glancing briefly to the king before quickly turning away as her cheeks flushed. "You both changed my life, but we only met briefly. I never assumed you'd remember little old me," she said with her characteristic cheer.

"You give yourself too little credit, Dagna. You've accomplished much since we last saw you," Alistair said proudly.

"As have you, _your Majesty_ ," she beamed.

The dwarf then bowly deeply and turned back to Elissa. "I'm Dagna. _Arcanist_ Dagna. It's an honour to meet you again, Hero. Or should I call you _Inquisitor_ now?"

Before Elissa could reply the dwarf's eyes dropped to her palm and widened. 

"Is that it? The hand anchor mark? It's pretty! The Breach was pretty too, in a _destroy everything_ sort of way," she said with a little giggle.

Cullen suppressed a sigh.

"Please, Elissa is fine," Elissa smiled softly as she held up her palm to give Dagna a closer look, "What does it look like to you?"

"I heard what everyone says you heard Corypheus say... _that's a long chain of who-said-whats,_ " the dwarf trailed off distractedly, taking Elissa's palm into her hand and turning it around as she inspected the anchor with a critical eye.

"To me it says... _Key_. But keys do a lot of things. Open. Lock. Switch. Some open one thing, some open _everything_. It sounds like Corypheus made it to _open_ but it looks like you can use it to _close_. It may be that simple. Sure is pretty. Wish I could see through it," she finished, her eyes still locked on the glowing mark as she held Elissa's palm up to the sunlight and squinted.

"So you're a... Dwarven Arcanist?" Elissa asked, shifting on her feet to give Dagna a better view. 

"The only one! When you learn things everyone says you can't you get to be the first. I've looked at the devices you have here," Dagna said, reluctantly letting go of Elissa's hand and gazing around the machinery in the Underfroft, "The precision is fantastic. But... typical. Mundane. _Old thinking_. I've made adjustments. As long as I keep making them you can craft just about anything _almost safely_."

 _Makers Breath_ , this little dwarf would be the end of him.

"Seems like we are lucky to have you. I'm glad you decided to join us," Elissa smiled, not sharing in Cullen's sentiments about the dwarf.

"How could I miss the chance to see _you_ again! And Corypheus, my goodness. And _actual_ physical rifts in the Veil? Dwarves... We don't dream, so when mages talk about it I can only, well, _dream_ what it would be like. You're also paying me. A lot. Like, _wow_. Plus all the things I'll get to make and what you're likely to find..."

Dagna's eyes shifted to Shale.

"As if I would be caught dead _anywhere but here_."

 _Andraste preserve us all_ , Cullen thought to himself as he prayed that Dagna wouldn't inadvertently be the cause of _everyone here_ ending up dead.


	49. The Western Approach

The Western Approach was a rocky wasteland of a desert. Towering cliffs and naturally formed arches broke up the landscape that was otherwise dominated by undulating stretches of blinding whiteness. It could almost be beautiful, if it weren't for the _bloody_ _sand_.

While Elissa had delighted in the rain she found she irrefutably detested sand with every fiber of her being. The little unimposing granules found their way into every nook and cranny of her clothing and armour. Despite her fervent attempts to keep it out she could still feel the grainy texture scratching against her skin until it was raw. After days dredging their way across the dunes she was ready to leave the desert and never return.

Alistair had it worse. Even though he had removed a few of the less critical pieces of his heavy armour Elissa was certain he must be cooking within the chestplate alone. Not that he let it show. In fact, the king had been infuriatingly _gleeful_ during the entire journey. 

Elissa assumed he had at least grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle during his reign in Denerim, she had seen what his bedchamber looked like after all, but the man seemed at home roughing it on the road. He ate rations cooked over a fire with the same ardor as a fine seven course meal reserved for a Wintersend feast. He never complained after hours in the saddle and even kept up lively banter with Dorian and Cole. Well, more so Dorian. Cole wasn't much of a conversationalist.

The king had also insisted on travelling without his honour guard. When Josephine had balked at the idea Alistair had simply stated that Elissa was all the protection he needed and that a smaller group would be less noticable anyway. When the ambassador protested further the king pointed out a foreign leader bringing armed soldiers into Orlais would be seen as an agressive act. Even Josephine couldn't refute that. 

After the daylight hours in sweltering heat, night brought with it a refreshing chill. The whole party had taken to stripping down to the bare minimum before entering their tents to try and keep as much sand from their bedrolls as possible. Dorian had begun the tradition their first night after slogging through the sand all day. He had retired early only to immediately exit his tent again uttering a constant slew of Tevinter curses as he angrily tore away his clothing, shaking out the sand before turning back in.

Elissa and Alistair had watched the furious mage in statuesque silence from the nearby fire. After Dorian had vanished back into his tent Alistair had quietly turned to her.

"You know, that's probably not a bad idea," he had whispered, his eyes shining with irrepressible mischief.

She had only scoffed at him. That is, until later that evening when she tried to crawl into her own bedroll, knocking loose a cascade of sand onto it. She had left her tent with an angry swipe of the flap only to lock eyes with Alistair as he was shaking sand from his boot. After a threatening glare from her he turned away to hide his grin as she stripped away her layers of clothing and sand. He had politely stayed turned to give her a bit of privacy.

Her eyes, however, _had_ wandered.

It had started innocently enough, glancing in his direction to ensure he hadn't turned back while she had been struggling out of her sandy breeches.

He hadn't. 

Instead she had caught the tail end of Alistair pulling his tunic off. His arms reached up behind his bowed head to grasp at the fabric and pulled the clothing back over his sand ridden golden hair. The bulk of muscle across his back rippled with the motion as inch by inch the entire expanse of skin between his broad shoulders was exposed to the firelight and Elissa's suddenly ravenous eyes. After the shirt had fallen away he reached back up with one hand to rustle the sand out of his hair. 

Elissa had been so caught up in what was unfolding before her she was too slow to react as he turned to collect his armour from the ground and caught her staring.

 _Ogling_.

With an all-too-knowing smirk he had playfully pretended to attempt to protect his modesty by holding up his discarded tunic to his chest with a dramatic gasp.

She half-dove, half-fell back into her tent, only realizing afterwards the motion would have provided Alistair a _scandalous_ view of her pantsless hindquarters. As she laid on her bedroll feeling the flush spread through her entire body she almost wished the Void would swallow her back up then and there. _Almost_. 

As such she had seen enough of Alistair's body now to leave her face flaming hotter than sand baking in the noon hour sun just _thinking_ about it.

She couldn't look him in the eye the following morning during breakfast, turning red if she even _thought_ he was glancing at her. Dorian had noticed her furious blushing and had given her an encouraging wink before asking Alistair about Zevran's favourite kind of wine. The resulting conversation had effectively broken the tension and the group set out for another day of sandy torture. Starting that night she kept her tent facing away from the others, both to give herself some privacy to disrobe and to reduce the temptation to sneak another peak at her heavily muscled travelling companion.

The rest of the trip was hardly so jovial. Yet again, their visit to this sand-filled voidscape was rife with detours and problems demanding their attention.

The most notable of them had been a fortified keep occupied by Venatori. It was one of the few times during the trip that Alistair's interminable humour had slipped away. Elissa had guessed he still harboured resentment following the organization's attempt on his life. _She_ certainly did.

Having unanimously decided they couldn't leave the Venatori to continue whatever they were plotting, the group surveyed the keep from a short distance away. Alistair seemed lost in thought as Elissa was discussing the merits of a head-on assault when Cole spoke up.

"Reckless, so reckless. Then the sun, bright and furious. Maker, _if she hadn't come-"_

"Front door it is then," Alistair announced, interrupting the peculiar young man's monologuing of the king's thoughts. He leapt over the short wall of rock they had been using for cover and marched towards the keep, sword drawn. Dorian raised an eyebrow at Elissa before she scrambled up and over the wall after the king.

It may have only been four against a whole contingent of Venatori but Elissa still felt her opponents had been woefully outmatched, even fighting without her magic. It wasn't long before she once again was standing atop a stronghold littered with corpses. Although this time she felt no dismay at the loss of life. As far as she was concerned the Venatori had sealed their fate when they tossed their lot in with Corypheus and tried to assassinate Alistair.

Cullen had seen the fort she had previously cleared in Crestwood put to good use as an Inquisition base. She wondered if he might find such a use for this one as well. Seemed a waste to leave it for bandits to slither in.

With all the immediate problems they had encountered dealt with it was time to finally track down Oghren and Shale at the Tevinter Ritual Tower.


	50. The Ritual Tower

Scattered throughout the sandy dunes of the Western Approach a number of ancient fortifications could be found, if one knew what to look for. Most had fallen away until little more than piles of large stone bricks remained. Others still loomed high above the landscape, intact despite generations of blowing sand and inescapable decay. The latter was what the party rode towards now. Great iron spires reached out from the ground like rusting fingers on a massive hand, announcing the old ritual tower from miles away.

They picked their way carefully along the lip of a massive gaping chasm. The land was sickly and pallid here, as if the ground itself was diseased. Noxious fumes escaping from vents deep below burned at her eyes until she was blinking away tears and trying not to gag.

With a grimace she realized she had found something _worse_ than sand. 

Alistair, as it turned out, was well versed in the history of the area. At least insofar as it pertained to the Grey Wardens but Elissa was grateful for any form of distraction. By his account this land had once been vibrant and full of life up until the Second Blight. With the rise of the Archdemon Zazikel the darkspawn came swarming out from the Abyssal Rift: the very chasm they were riding along towards the tower. Elissa cast a wary eye towards its depths, though she could see nothing beyond the miasma that clouded the bottom of the pit. 

Even once the archdemon had been defeated and the swarm driven back, the earth remained scarred and barren after almost a century of warfare. After the Blight the Wardens enlisted the dwarves to construct a large fortress on the edge of the Abyssal Rift. Adamant, it had been named, in testament to Grey Warden resolve. It was built to stand guard over the darkspawn that still crept out from the darkest reaches of the tainted chasm. However, this was almost a millennia ago and the stronghold, which was only a days ride south of here, had paradoxically been long since abandoned.

Oghren was pacing when they finally arrived, a formidable great axe resting over his shoulder. 

"Took you long enough," he growled, "They are already here."

Shale stood nearby, as silent and imposing as the crumbling architecture stretching up above them. Her stoic gaze rested on a group gathered on the other side of the bridge. A green haze hung in the air above them, resisting the blowing winds that whipped around the tower. The breeze that drifted towards Elissa carried with it the lingering sting of residual arcane magic.

The ritual had already begun.

Alistair's mood shifted as he drew his shoulders back and set his jaw. He slid his shield onto his arm and rested a hand against the hilt of the sword on his hip.

"Let's go," he said, his voice low and eyes dangerous. 

As they crossed the bridge Elissa had to practically run to keep up with Alistair's long strides. The stone beneath her feet shook as Shale followed but the ancient structure held fast.

A group of half a dozen Wardens had gathered, each facing away towards a man speaking atop a raised platform. He stood apart from the rest, garbed in all-too-familiar Tevinter robes.

_What were these Grey Wardens doing with a Venatori?_

"Explain yourselves!" Alistair demanded as they approached, voicing Elissa's thoughts aloud.

A frightened man from the midst of the Wardens turned to face them, his eyes frantic as they found Elissa and a desperate hope flared behind them. For a moment she thought maybe it had all been a misunderstanding. Surely the Wardens couldn't be in league with this Venatori-

Then one of the other Wardens plunged a blade into his back.

With horror Elissa watched the life fade from the man's eyes as he crumpled to the ground in an undignified heap. His blood hung suspended in the air, curling around in on itself, and Elissa's nose burned with acrid magic.

_Blood magic._

A rage demon sprouted from the ground, unleashing an otherworldly howl from the ragged hole in its face that passed for a mouth. It turned towards the Warden who had just slaughtered one of his own brethren.

"Quickly, now bind it as I showed you!" the Venatori shouted.

With a word the demon was brought under control, fury still burning behind its glassy black eyes.

_The Grey Wardens were binding demons._

One of the other men grabbed his slain brother's corpse and dragged it off to the side, adding it to a heap of other bodies Elissa hadn't noticed at first. She turned to Alistair though his gaze was just as horrified as hers. Oghren only stared on with a silent fury.

The Venatori turned his attention towards the arriving party.

"Inquisitor, what an unexpected pleasure," he said, bending into an elaborate bow, "Lord Livius Erimond of Vyrantium, at your service."

"You are no Warden," Oghren growled, sliding his great axe from his shoulder.

"But you are," Erimond replied with a sigh, "The one Clarel let slip. You went and found the Inquisitor and came to stop me. Shall we see how that goes?"

In unison the surviving Wardens fell into a defensive position around the Venatori, who had started grinning. Now that they had turned to face her Elissa could see a light red haze emanating from their eyes.

Corypheus had taken their minds.

Anders had talked about his experience falling under the darkspawn magister's influence but it still left her ill prepared to see it for herself. Elissa shook her head, aghast at the situation unfolding before her. This couldn't really be happening, could it?

"What have you done to them?" Alistair's voice was even and steady, but the look in his eyes betrayed his outrage.

"They did this to themselves," Erimond said with a self satisfied smirk, "You see, the Calling had the Wardens terrified. They looked _everywhere_ for help."

"Even Tevinter," Dorian said, fixing his countryman in a withering scowl.

"Yes, and since it was my master who put it into their little heads, we the Venatori were prepared."

Elissa wanted nothing more than to paint the wall behind Erimond with his own blood. She knew his smugness was _supposed_ to be getting under skin, that he likely wanted her, _all of them_ , off balance. Except he seemed to be enjoying himself too much, and perhaps, talking more than he should. She held back her scathing reply and settled for an angry glare. This only seemed to fuel him further.

"I went to Clarel full of sympathy and together we came up with a plan... Raise a demon army, march into the Deep Roads and kill the old gods before they wake."

"Ahh," Dorian mused sardonically, "I was wondering when the demon army was going to come up."

"You knew about it, did you?" That seemed to catch the Venatori off guard, though he quickly composed himself again. "Well, here you are. Sadly for the Wardens the binding ritual I taught their mages has a little side effect... They're now my master's slaves and the demons they have bound to fight through the Deep Roads will work just as well across Orlais."

True to his word the Wardens didn't react to the admission that they had been so thoroughly deceived. Elissa's stomach was churning pure bile. 

"So this is Corypheus' doing? He influenced their minds and made them do..." she trailed off, gesturing to the pile of corpses.

"Made them? No. Everything you see here, the blood sacrifices to bind the demons? The Wardens did it of their own free will. Fear is a very good motivator, and they were _very afraid_. You should have seen Clarel agonize over the decision."

The bastard had the audacity to smile as if he cherished the memory fondly.

"Do you really want to see the world fall to the Blight?" Alistair spoke through clenched teeth, "What do you get out of this?"

"The Elder One _commands_ the Blight. He is not commanded by it, like the mindless darkspawn. The Blight isn't unstoppable or uncontrollable. It is simply a tool."

"Somebody's certainly a tool," Oghren mutteted under his breath, flexing his fingers along the grip of his weapon.

"As for me," Erimond continued, "While the Elder One rules from the Golden City, we, the Venatori, will be his god-kings here in the world."

"You think I'd just let that happen?" Elissa growled.

"I don't think you'll have much to say on the matter. My master told me how to deal with you," Erimond sneered.

He raised a hand towards her and pain erupted through her palm and up her arm. The suddenness of it took her by surprise. With a wincing grunt she collapsed to her knees and clasped the anchor tightly within her opposite hand. Alistair took a step towards the Venatori but the Wardens blocked his path. 

"That mark you bear? The anchor that let's you pass safely through the Veil? That was stolen from my master. Without it he's been forced to find other ways to access the Fade."

Corypheus had tried this very tactic on her back in Haven. She was still new to the mark then, unfamiliar with its power. 

_But not anymore_. 

Once the shock of the pain passed she fixed the Ventaori in a hard stare. She could feel it, whatever magic he was casting, and it felt oddly similar to a rift. She let the power of the anchor spill out into it.

For the span of a single heartbeat she could see the look of Erimond's face shift from smuggness to _fear_.

 _Yes_ , she thought, _let the fear monger taste his own poison._

Then she wrenched the power back, as if sealing a rift. The result was explosive, flinging Erimond back into the stone wall behind him with the force of a druffalo kick. Not enough to paint it with his blood, but satisfying nonetheless.

The Wardens didn't react. They didn't even attempt to blink the dust of the explosion from their eyes.

Erimond struggled back to his feet, clutching his side. He caught Elissa's eye and she returned his glare with her own smug grin.

"Kill them," he grunted and made his retreat towards the back of the tower.

The Wardens finally sprang into action before Elissa could follow him. The group spoke in unison, their voices bereft of emotion and unsettling in their monotony. A moment later demons emerged from the ground beside the remaining mages, one for each of the Warden bodies tossed aside.

Elissa bit back the bile that rose in her throat at the sight. How could any of these monsters have been deemed worth the cost of a Warden life?

At least Corypheus had chosen to build his army with something Elissa was just so _good_ at destroying. With a gesture she let her frustration bleed out through her fingertips as smoldering embers erupted from the demons. It trailed from their cores and out along their limbs until the screeching creatures combusted into smoke and ash. Only the Wardens remained now.

Elissa hesitated.

Knowing the fate that likely awaited these men, that endless _nothing_ , she couldn't just condemn them to it. They had been _deceived_. Killing them now would count double, Corypheus claiming the first when he stole their minds. Elissa had more than enough blood on her hands already. She knew there would be no reasoning with these mages, that much was certain.

Maybe though, with some help, she could still _save them_.


	51. Avoiding Further Bloodshed

Elissa had just reduced half a dozen demons into smoldering ash with a flick of her wrist. Even though it wasn't Alistair's first time seeing her wield such destructive power, it was still enough of a novelty to leave him with a sense of awe.

The king was hardly a novice when it came to battle but he didn't have a great deal of experience with demons. He had helped Elissa reclaim the fallen Fereldan Circle during the Blight but most of those demons had still been trapped within the Fade. Alistair didn't really have anything to compare her magic against. Not that it mattered. As far as he was concerned she was just in a league of her own.... as she always had been.

He wondered what kind of damage she could have unleashed upon the darkspawn a decade ago with this newfound talent for the arcane. Would Duncan have kept her for that fateful battle? Would it have made a difference? Or would she have perished with their mentor to leave Alistair the sole Warden to raise armies and defeat the Blight?

It was a disturbing thought.

Regardless of how incredible this magic was, he would still rather have _his_ Elissa back than an advantage of any sort, no matter how useful. There was little he wouldn't trade for her to regain those precious memories. For her to be herself again, alive and breathing. At least he didn't have to worry about her being able to protect herself in the meantime.

As the demonic ash floated away a silence fell over the ancient tower. The Wardens didn't immediately react, their expressions vacant as they watched the ash drift away with the breeze. Alistair held his breath.

Suddenly a fierce wind sprang to life around Elissa. It pulled at her clothing and picked up the sand from the stone floor, casting it away in a great cloud. Even in the blinding desert sun Alistair could see the glow emanating from her. Unlike in Denerim, he now knew what it meant.

Evelyn, the fragmented soul trapped within Elissa, had assumed control.

One of the Wardens lunged towards Alistair, almost catching him off guard as he watched the mage in Elissa come to life. He brought up his shield and knocked his assailant to the ground, almost too easily. The man was clearly unaccustomed to hand-to-hand combat; mages typically preferred a ranged assault. When he moved to follow through with the killing blow Elissa's hand caught his wrist in an iron grip, stopping his arm mid-swing.

The woman who met his eye, though wearing her face, bore almost no resemblance to Elissa Cousland whatsoever. This stranger was stern and resolute, where Elissa was bright and thoughtful. Her eyes were sharp, even beneath the glow. Though confused, Alistair relented in his attack. She released his arm with a slight nod and turned to face the Warden mages, her back straight as an arrow and shoulders held back high.

Even with blades affixed to her back she looked every inch a mage raised within a Circle.

"Enough of this," her words rang out with Elissa's voice.

One of the mages, ignoring the warning, lashed out with a volley of fire. The attack was swatted away with a flick Elissa's wrist and those sharp eyes narrowed on the man.

" _Enough_ ," she repeated, flinging a single arm before her in a wide arc.

The Wardens all flew back, leveled to the ground with an unseen strike. The man at Alistair's feet was still close enough for the king to hear him let out a strangled rasp as if the air had been wrenched from his chest. His face, along with his brethren, contorted into the same unsettling grimace as hands began to pull at the clothing around their necks. Slowly their backs arched and feet scrambled for purchase against the stone beneath them. Despite their obvious struggle the Wardens all remained absolutely silent.

 _Maker's Breath..._ was Evelyn _strangling_ them all?

The one who had attacked Alistair was the first to scream. His hands moved up to grasp at his face as if he intended to rip it off. The light pouring out of Elissa intensified until Alistair had to turn away, bringing up his shield to block the blinding radiance. As it faded he turned back, after images dancing before his eyes.

The Wardens had all stopped struggling and lay still against the stone. 

Alistair stared at the motionless bodies with dismay. They may have been already lost to that blasted blood magic ritual but they were still _Wardens_. He didn't relish having to kill any of his brothers; the Order was already so few in number. What Alistair didn't understand was why had Evelyn stayed his hand from the death blow if she had intended to kill them all anyway?

At his side the woman in question exhaled an unsteady breath, immediately drawing in another with a ragged gasp. He noticed her glow had faded until it was nearly gone. Killing demons could be done without breaking a sweat but apparently killing Wardens wasn’t so easy. Alistair felt a small tingle of pride mixed in with his disquiet.

Then one of the Warden mages stirred. 

Alistair's eyes snapped back to the man. It was so buried and clouded he had missed it at first but there it was; he could still _feel_ the taint in them. They _weren't_ dead. If that hadn't been Evelyn killing them... _what did he just witness?_

" _Maker_ ," the man groaned, sitting up slowly and pressing fingers into his temples, "What... _What happened?_ " He glanced around uncertainly.

Alistair kept his distance but watched the slowly awakening Wardens as his brows furrowed in confusion. 

"Elissa," he said absently, turning towards her.

"Not Elissa," came her reply with a gentle shake of the head. She sagged, leaning heavily against the stone wall at her side. 

"Evelyn," he corrected, somewhat awkwardly, not entirely sure how to address this pseudo-stranger. Technically, they hadn't ever really met.

She nodded as she braced her hands against the stone behind her and slowly slid down the wall until she sat on the floor.

Alistair pushed aside his uncertainty to kneel beside her, concern winning out over the awkwardness. Wynne had often been winded after a fight but he had always assumed that had more to do with her years than the use of magic. Perhaps he had been wrong, or perhaps this had more to do with Elissa and Evelyn's strange connection. There was so much he didn't know. So much he was powerless to help with.

"Are you alright?" he asked, unsure how else to articulate his concerns.

She eyed him curiously, the sharpness leaving her eyes as she smiled softly.

"It's not hard to see what she sees in you," Evelyn said quietly.

He really didn't have a response to that.

Movement caught his eye and he glanced back at the awakening Wardens. Oghren was talking with them gruffly, trying to pry out information. Shale stood like an imposing mountain behind the dwarf should the mages try to attack again, though the weary Wardens seemed significantly less threatening now.

"What did you do?" Alistair asked, glancing back. Her light had faded even more from just moments ago.

"They are free. Corypheus can't touch them again," she said wearily, as if the words themselves tired her.

"Free? What-" he began, but the woman cut him off.

"Tell Elissa- Tell her _I'm still waiting_." 

With that the last of her glow faded and her head drooped down to her chest.

Alistair frowned. What was _that_ supposed to mean?

He left Oghren to deal with the Wardens as he checked her pulse, but it was still strong. If this was anything like what had happened in Denerim she would be fine, but she wouldn't wake for some time. He gently picked her limp form up into his arms and turned to find Cole watching him.

"Their deaths would have hurt her," he said quietly, " _She_ came to make sure it didn't hurt." He smiled softly.

As the Wardens woke one by one Oghren interrogated them all. They glanced curiously at Alistair, clearly sensing the taint but unable to recognize his face. He returned their glances warily. What exactly had Evelyn done to them? Was it permanent? Were they still a potential threat? He held Elissa tighter within his protective grasp.

Oghren walked back to Alistair.

"They don't remember anything that happened here. That man, Erimond, seems to have been telling the truth that he has been advising Clarel," the dwarf explained, his face pulling into a frown as he stroked one of the braids in his beard.

”I can’t imagine what she was thinking,” Alistair remarked but Oghren shot him a look.

”She’s thinking we’re all dying,” the dwarf replied darkly.

”But it’s not a _real_ Calling, Oghren.”

”You lead your own kingdom now Alistair, would you risk all of Ferelden because someone said the threat wasn’t really _real_? Even while you could see it with your own eyes? Would you risk _her_ life?” Oghren said, gesturing to the woman in his arms. Alistair’s grip tightened once again around her unconscious form.

No. He wouldn’t.

”I don’t know why you’re not hearing it, but don’t mistake you being a lucky bastard with the rest of us overreacting. I don’t agree with her choices but I can understand the circumstances that led to them. You of all people should know it’s easier to judge decisions than to make them.”

Ten years ago Alistair would have easily wagered all of the gold in Ferelden that Oghren would never been able to so thouroughly shame him. He waited for the dwarf to do something the old Oghren would have done to return this interaction back to familiar waters: Belch. Fart. Curse. _Something_. But he only held Alistair’s gaze with a tepid expression.

 _Maker’s Breath_ , Alistair was coming dangerously close to actually _respecting_ the unsavoury little ginger.

"What do you want to do with them?" Oghren asked, turning back to the Wardens and further surprising the king by changing the subject instead of relishing in his little victory.

"They will come back to Skyhold so we can keep an eye on them,” Alistair said after a moment. Elissa would have the final say whenever she woke up but they couldn’t just leave the Wardens here in the meantime.

Oghren nodded and turned away. His eyes were far reaching as he stared out past the crumbling tower.

"The Venatori escaped that way," he said solemnly, "Towards Adamant."

The king followed his gaze.

"Is there nothing about the Wardens that monster isn't willing to desecrate?" Alistair said with a sigh, "If it weren't for us there would be no world left for Corypheus to rule. He could show a little damned respect."

"When we meet him you can tell him that," Oghren growled as he hefted his great axe off the stone and turned to leave the tower.

"Right before I remove that blighter's head from his sodding shoulders."


	52. Close Quarters

As Elissa began to wake her neck ached. The familiar discomfort of sand clung beneath her clothing and for some reason she was sitting upright. And she was _moving_. After several familiar lurching motions she realized she must be astride a horse.

It took her a moment to collect herself enough to open her eyes and confirm her suspicion. She found one arm reached around in front of her, holding the reins in a relaxed grasp. Another arm was stretched across her breastplate, grasping her shoulder gently and pinning her against the chest of whoever sat behind her, keeping her from falling. 

As she gingerly lifted her head she heard as much as _felt_ a deep voice speak from just above her ear.

"Good morning."

Alistair's voice and the feeling of his body tucked so closely behind hers brought the unbidden imagery of him bare-chested to her mind. She was at once _completely awake_ and prayed he couldn't see her face flush from his vantage point.

"How long have I been out?" she asked, her voice groggy and still thick with sleep. Alistair released his arm from across her torso and let it drop to the horn, his forearm resting lightly against her thigh. Without him keeping her steady she grasped the edge of the saddle on either side of his hand.

"Since yesterday," he replied. "We stayed at the tower only long enough to bury the fallen Wardens, then returned to camp for a few hours. Whatever you did to the Warden mages-" he paused, "Whatever _Evelyn_ did seems to be holding, for now."

"She was quite confident about it, whatever _it_ was," Elissa agreed with a nod as she tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle a yawn.

Alistair was quiet for a moment before he continued. "Well they seem about as distrustful of themselves as we are of them. Without a proper understanding of what exactly she did it'll stay that way for now."

”I’ve seen firsthand the things Evelyn has done with her magic,” Elissa said, “If she thinks they are free from Corypheus I’m inclined to believe her.”

A thoughtful noise resonated within the king's chest and once again she felt it even through the armour that separated them. 

She started to shift in the saddle to find a more comfortable position but froze as Alistair went rigid behind her.

”Sorry,” she said in a barely audible whisper, her cheeks once again flaming.

Alistair cleared his throat before he replied. “That Venatori stole a few of the Warden horses, and you were in no state to ride, so I let them use my mount in the meantime.”

She could find no voice to respond with so she only nodded. Every point of contact where their bodies touched suddenly felt like it could burst into flame.

"We will have to find horses in the next town. Tomorrow at the latest," he promised.

Elissa's heart raced at his words. Despite her already stiff bottom she secretly delighted that this arrangement would continue. The feeling of Alistair wrapped around her, even if a little nerve wracking and _completely_ _distracting_ , was still undeniably electrifying. Such enthusiasm was entirely unbecoming but she allowed herself a few moments of glee before swiftly returning her expression to something more neutral.

When she didn't speak Alistair filled the silence, "If you would rather ride with someone else, I'm sure Dorian wouldn't-"

"No-" she said quickly, maybe _too quickly_ , "This- This is fine."

Without turning she knew beyond a doubt Alistair was smiling and she faught to keep her own face controlled. She cleared her throat and lifted her gaze towards the Wardens riding some distance ahead with Oghren. The sunlight still stung her eyes as she adjusted to the desert brightness but the Warden armour wasn't difficult to pick out.

"Are they coming back with us?" she asked, as interested in the answer as she was the distraction it offered to let her face return to some semblance of normal colouring. 

"Unless you decide otherwise," the king replied, "They don't really have anywhere else to go but they may still be susceptible to Corypheus' influence. It may not be safe to have them in Skyhold, but it's your call." 

"Cullen has been receiving reports about darkspawn sightings on the surface. I'm sure he can find a suitable use for them outside of the castle that makes everyone happy," she shrugged.

She felt Alistair's breathing pause at the mention of the commander's name and his fist tightened on the horn but his voice remained unaffected when he spoke.

"It's as good a plan as any."

She watched the Wardens as they picked their way through the sand ahead of her and Alistair. They all had hunched shoulders and bowed heads as they rode. None of them spoke to the others, their faces all looking determinedly away from one another.

"Have they said anything?" she asked curiously.

"Not much that slippery Venatori didn't already tell us. Clarel agreed to the ritual out of desperation, and these were the first to attempt it. They remember nothing beyond the moment they held knives to their brother's throats," Alistair said quietly and she felt a shiver run through his whole body.

She stared at them quietly for a time. Only the mages among them were able to complete the ritual to bind the demons. It was the remaining Wardens that had been used as the blood sacrifices. She was keenly aware of the fact that when she had been a part of their ranks she had been no mage.

"Do you think I would have been one of them?" she said quietly, "If you had been the one to kill the archdemon? If I had remained with the Wardens?"

_If you had died and I had been the one left alone?_

She felt Alistair go instantly tense from the line of questioning. Perhaps because she was already hyperaware of his body so close to hers she noticed as he, ever so slightly, arched around her. He sat up straighter, his chest leaning into her back. It wasn't enough to move her forward but enough that the pressure could be felt. His thighs tightened slightly against her legs, the arms around her own drawing in a fraction until she could feel them pressed against her. It felt like he was trying to envelope her further within the safety of his powerful limbs and she let herself lean into his reassuring hold.

"Elissa," he said quietly, his voice low and soft.

"Would I have just been sacrificed to bind a demon?" she continued in barely more than a whisper.

Alistair's hand lifted from the horn and disappeared from view behind her. A moment later Elissa froze when gentle fingers brushed against her jaw as he carefully pulled her hair away from the back of her neck. She could feel his torso shift as he leaned down and she instinctually tilted her head slightly to the side but he paused just short of touching her.

His mouth couldn't have been more than a finger's width away from her. Breath like molten lava poured across her exposed skin, burning even with the desert's latent heat in the air. It was only his hand that came to rest against her shoulder though, his thumb tracing a line across the bit of chain from her necklace visible above the back of her breastplate.

"No," he breathed, the word sending another wave of warmth from his lips as they hovered tantalizingly close to her bare skin.

She half turned in the saddle to look at him from the corner of her eye. 

The eyes that looked up from her neck to meet her gaze were unexpectedly heated. His light brown irises had darkened to a burnt umber and she stared back, suddenly breathless. Elissa had grown accustomed to Alistair always having some sort of grin on his handsome face but his expression now sent a torrent of emotion cascading through her whole body.

He only held her gaze for a heartbeat before dropping his face until his forehead rested against the hand on her shoulder. He cleared his throat loudly and let out a noise somewhere between a nervous laugh and a drawn out sigh.

"No," he repeated, his voice light and breezy now but his face still buried from sight.

Elissa was paralyzed as she sat half turned, only moving to the rythum of the steed beneath her. That look still burned in her mind. _Maker_ , that look would _always_ burn in her mind. She blinked and took in an unsteady breath. Her lungs ached from the extended time since she last remembered to _breathe_.

Moments passed before he sat up again. All traces of his previous intensity were gone as he did, replaced now with his usual levity. His hand slid away from her shoulder to rest against his leg, knuckles kneading the muscle in his thigh with slow repetitive movements.

"If Oghren had enough sense to get off that sinking ship you wouldn't have been far behind," he said with a lopsided smile, "Or you would have talked some much needed sense into Clarel before that Venatori rat got his teeth into her."

Elissa continued to stare at Alistair for a moment before she pulled her eyes away and turned back forwards in the saddle with a distracted nod. She could only half listen to his words. Her question had already been forgotten, along with her ability to focus, some distance behind them.

She knew they had been involved ten years ago but had never really thought about it beyond that being the reason he was so frustratingly familiar. She had registered the emotional attachment, but now... having seen _that_ _look..._ new thoughts were beginning to form in her mind. Thoughts that made her thinking about him bare-chested seem utterly tame by comparison. A blush crept from her face straight down to her toes.

She swallowed. 

Had they ever slept together? Had Alistair, whose muscled body looked like it had been expertly carved from stone, _seen_ _her_ _naked_? If so, technically she held similar memories of him but they were locked away with all the rest, which seemed _decidedly_ unfair.

 _Maker's Breath_ , if sharing the saddle was this distracting for _her_ it must be a special torment for _him_.

He was still talking to her though Elissa only half heard the words. She had to remind her lungs to function, her trembling hands to keep her steady in the saddle. Her heart slammed against her ribs but she couldn't tell if it was from excitement following this revelation or raging embarrassment. 

Absently she heard her name fall from his lips and shifted her attention away from decidedly impure thoughts.

"Elissa, are you alright?"

She opened her mouth but no reply came. She couldn't force any words out. He tried to lean forward to see her face but the winds had swept her hair wild, shielding her from his gaze. She swallowed and tried again, letting her eyes close as she pushed the air from her lungs and willed the words out with it.

"Ali- Alistair," she stammered.

" _Mmm?_ " He responded, the noise resonating from his chest.

"Have you- Did- Did we ever-" _Maker's Breath,_ she couldn't get the words out.

"Did we ever... what?" he continued for her, speculatively, "See a basilisk? Eat jellied ham? Did we ever _lick a lamppost in winter_?"

Elissa blinked, somewhat thrown by his strange reply. She would have assumed he was just confused by her attempted question were it not for the way his voice had dropped from light to husky, dripping with innuendo. He knew _exactly_ what she had tried to ask.

"Are you making fun of me?" she accused.

"Make fun of you, dear lady? Perish the thought," he responded, his body shaking slightly with a silent laugh.

She shot him a look over her shoulder but immediately turned away as he beamed back at her, igniting yet another blush. 

"To answer your question," he continued, his tone mercifully free of the humour from a moment ago, "We _have_ licked a lamppost in winter. Several times, in fact."

She groaned and hunched forward in the saddle, burying her face in her hands.

"Maker it wasn't _that bad_ , I promise," he said defensively, though his smile could still be heard in his words.

When she didn't reply a gentle hand came to rest against her shoulder. "Elissa, I'm sorry if I've offended you. I shouldn't jest."

She let out a breath and sat back up, her face still buried in a palm.

"I'm not offended. I'm... _Andraste preserve me_ , I should have realized all of this so much sooner," she groaned.

"What's wrong?" he asked, concern evident.

" _Maker's Breath_ , Alistair. You've seen me _naked_ ," she muttered, hissing the last word. Her hand dropped to pinch the bridge of her nose.

Suddenly their horse pulled up and stopped. She glanced around quickly but nothing except sand stretched out beyond them.

"That's an easy enough fix," he said cheerily, "We just need to level the playing field."

He shifted back in the saddle to dismount but Elissa shot her hands back and grabbed his thighs, keeping him in place.

Tomatoes would be ashamed of their own colouring compared to the scarlet now raging across her cheeks.

"Alistair Theirin," she hissed, "You are NOT _stripping naked_ in the middle of the desert."

She expected a witty retort but when he remained quiet she risked another glance back. He was watching her fondly, a forlorn smile on his lips.

"I'm sorry," he repeated earnestly. "I shouldn't find amusement in your discomfort. It can sometimes be too easy to forget you don't remember the same things I do," he said softly.

She watched him wryly but when he didn't make any further attempts to divest himself of his clothing she released her grasp on his legs.

"You reminded me of a conversation we once had, a long time ago. Flustered and bashful and _endlessly endearing_ you tried to ask if I was," he cleared his throat, " _a_ _virgin_."

He stared past her, his own cheeks tinged a light pink. Her words spilled out before she could swallow them back down.

"Were you?"

"I was," he replied with a nod, "Until you." He smiled down at her then, "It has only ever been you."

She could feel her cheeks flushing but he held his gaze.

"Even after..." she trailed off and he only nodded again.

"Oh," she murmured, her gaze dropping from his as she turned to face forwards in the saddle again.

 _Oh_.

"What about an heir?" she asked as he gently nudged their horse forwards again.

She felt him shrug. "Might not even be possible, courtesy of the darkspawn taint."

"So if we had married..." she asked quietly, her fingers brushing along her breastplate and the little golden ring hidden beneath it.

"A lack of heir wouldn't have been from a lack of trying," he replied with a soft laugh.

She shook her head. "Has anyone ever mentioned that you have an incredibly inappropriate sense of humour?"

"You have, actually. Many, _many_ times."

"Well at least that hasn't changed," she whispered.

She smiled and, after a moment of deliberation, carefully let herself lean back into his chest as they rode. His hand returned to the horn, his forearm once again resting easily against her thigh.

After a few minutes she felt his cheek gently lean against her head as he let out a contented sigh.


	53. Still Waiting

The passage of day into night within Cullen's office often went unnoticed. It wasn't until the headache began to spread beneath his temples as he strained his eyes to read in the fading twilight that he acknowledged the change at all.

The sun had long since set while he tried to put a dent in the unending amount of paperwork requiring his attention. For every matter he addressed a scout would drop off two more. He had lived though the reality of an avalanche barreling down towards him. Seen the weight of an entire mountainside threatening to bury him beneath its immeasurable weight. As he stared at the daunting tower of pages before him he could swear that he was facing it _again_. It was relentless. There just weren't enough hours in the day to get ahead of it.

His barely touched dinner lurked somewhere nearby, no doubt half buried beneath a stack of requisitions. He felt his temples throbbing once again and finally noticed the ache in his shoulders from hunching ever closer to the dwindling light of his nearly burnt out candle. With a weary sigh he opened the drawer of his desk and retrieved another, trying not to burn himself as he lit the fresh wick.

 _Just one more hour,_ he told himself even though he knew he wouldn’t heed his own words.

It was only the signal from the guard towers that roused him from his monotonous task. One blast sounded through the silence.

He held his breath, waiting. Nothing else followed.

Riders were returning. He stood from his desk and turned to face the window overlooking the bridge down below, stretching his stiff limbs. The horn would sound to notify the castle of returning soliders or scouts, regardless of the time. As the days had stretched into weeks after Elissa left, Cullen found himself watching from his window at every blast.

Tonight his vigil was rewarded. He recognized her even before she lowered her hood, his heart beginning to beat a little faster and his exhaustion forgotten for the moment. He abandoned the half written requisition order at his desk and hastened through the door towards the battlements and the shortest route towards the main gate.

He laid eyes on Elissa again in the courtyard and felt a weight lift from his chest. She was home. She was _safe_. She handed her reigns off to a yawning stablehand waiting nearby and unstrapped her pack from her mount. As she slung it over her shoulder she sagged under its weight. 

Cullen was at her side in a moment, easing the luggage from her. Her eyes flashed up to his and her face broke out into a wide smile as she pulled her shoulders back to stand upright.

"Cullen," she breathed, "I figured you'd be asleep by now."

His heart swelled at the sight of her beaming up at him. _Maker's Breath he had missed her._ "Welcome back," he said softly.

"It's good to be back," she grinned but her face grew serious a moment later. She grasped his shoulder and leveled him in a stern look.

"If I ever decide to go back into the blasted desert I want you to chain me to the war table," she said without any hint of humour.

His lip pulled up into a half-smile, "Not a pleasant trip?"

"Cullen. The sand. The bloody _sand,_ " she let out a disgruntled noise and shook as a shiver passed through her.

"Commander," a low voice sounded from behind him.

Cullen turned to face the king, his hand gripping Elissa's satchel until his knuckles were white beneath his gloves. He had done his best not to think about Elissa traveling with him these past weeks.

"Your Majesty," he replied with a curt nod.

"Assemble the war council, our news will not wait," Alistair said assertively and Cullen felt himself bristle from the command.

Elissa sighed and began to make her way up the stone stairs towards the main hall. Cullen and Alistair fell into place behind her, subtly eyeing one another out of the corner of their eyes.

It didn't take long to convene the council within the war room. Josephine had entered the chamber only minutes after she had been summoned and yet she wore her usual elaborate attire with her hair intricately braided. Only a small red mark down her cheek from the crease of her pillow proved she had actually been sleeping prior to this. Cullen wasn't entire unconvinced she didn't sleep in her clothes; how else would she be able to get dressed in all that frilly nonsense so _fast?_ Leliana had still been awake in her tower reading through missives and reports from her scouts. The spymaster didn't seem to ever actually sleep and yet she never bore any signs of sleep deprivation.

Elissa stood in her customary position across the table from her advisors, directly opposite Cullen himself. Alistair occupied the space next to her and Cullen bristled every time the king leaned down to whisper something in her ear, which was far more often than the commander cared for. 

It didn't take her long to brief the room about what transpired in the Western Approach. She politely didn't mention her distaste for the sand, though Cullen didn't miss the way she squirmed a little in her armour.

He motioned for a messenger, scrawling out a quick note.

_Prepare a bath in the Inquisitor's quarters. Ensure the hearth has been lit._

Elissa eyed him curiously but the commander quickly focused his attention on Oghren's _colourful_ report lest his ears redden. The first time he arranged this for her still haunted him; _Let's get you in that bath then_. Cullen suppressed a groan at the memory and redoubled his efforts to listen to the foul-mouthed dwarf. He was only familiar with a handful of the curses the stout Warden peppered his briefing with, though he was decidedly certain he would rather _not_ become familiar with the rest.

Each of their reports ended the same way: The Grey Wardens had returned to their abandoned stronghold and were following the dubious advise of the escaped Venatori agent, Erimond.

"Adamant fortress has stood against the darkspawn since the time of the second Blight" Alistair said resolutely. 

"Fortunately for us that means it was built before the age of modern seige equipment. A good trebuchet will do major damage to those ancient walls," Cullen added, trying to mentally calculate how long it would take to transport such equipment clear across Orlais.

Alistair clenched his jaw but didn’t reply.

"That's the good news," the spymaster continued, ignoring the look the king shot her.

"And the bad news?" Elissa said with a muted groan.

"The Wardens said the ritual in the Western Approach was a test. Erimond may already be raising an army of demons in the fortress," Oghren continued.

"The Inquisition forces can breach the gate, but if the Wardens already have their demons..." Cullen frowned. 

"I've seen records of Adamant's construction. There are choke points that can be used to limit the field of battle," Alistair offered, albeit somewhat reluctantly. Cullen got the distinct impression the king was none too enthused about destroying Warden history.

"We may not be able to defeat them outright, but if we cut off reinforcements we can carve a path to Warden Commander Clarel," Cullen said, his hands clenching into fists as he leaned on his knuckles over the war table.

"So our plan is to lay siege to a legendary fortress filled with demons," Elissa sighed. 

"It'll be hard faught, no way around it, but we'll get that gate open," Cullen assured her.

"It's also possible some Wardens may be sympathetic to our cause," Josephine postulated.

"The warriors may be willing to listen to reason though I doubt they will turn against Clarel directly," Oghren said gruffly.

"The mages however, are slaves to Corypheus. They will fight to the death," Leliana said darkly.

"Evelyn saved some. She could save more," Elissa interjected quickly.

"That was merely a handful of mages and it wiped her out. We could be facing dozens. _Hundreds_ ," Alistair warned, "Saving them all likely isn't possible, even with her help."

Elissa scowled at the king.

"It pains me to admit it, Elissa. Trust me," he said softly, one hand rising to grip her shoulder gently.

Cullen fixed his eyes on the maps laid out before him on the war table. His fists clenched until he was certain the whole room could hear the leather in his gloves protesting the strain.

"We can assign the Inquisitor a contingent of Templars," he offered, struggling to keep his voice even, "To at least temporarily neutralize the threat and buy her some time to... work her magic."

He risked a look back up at Elissa. She was watching him carefully, a deranged sort of hope in her eye. The king's hand had returned back to his side. "Though his Majesty is right," Cullen didn't particularly like saying that aloud, "It will be impossible to save them all. Even you can't be everywhere at once."

"Some is still better than none," she said quietly, her eyes growing distant and troubled. 

He watched her for a moment before clearing his throat and continuing. 

"We will begin construction on the seige engines immediately. When they are done you need only give the word, Inquisitor; our forces will be ready to march on Adamant."

* * *

After the council adjourned Cullen hung back to collect his stack of papers. The commander had hastily scrawled notes during the discussion and would need them to begin his preparations for the assault on Adamant. 

He exhaled with a long drawn out sigh. He thought his nights had been plagued with relentless work _before._ Now he had to plan a bloody _seige_. 

Maker's Breath, he would never sleep again.

A little part of him was relieved. The lyrium withdrawal had been taking its toll as of late. His sleep was haunted more often than not, leaving him almost more exhausted after waking than before he shut his eyes. The strange figure still visited now and then, banishing the dark dreams in her wake, but even she couldn't save him from a lifetime of nightmare fuel.

But he would endure. Elissa needed him to endure. 

"Commander, a word?"

His eyes shot up to find Elissa standing at his side and he was grateful he somehow managed to _not_ flinch at her sudden proximity. 

"I was hoping we could find a time to..." she trailed off, knotting her fingers before her. "While Evelyn was in control she mentioned she was- That she was _still_ _waiting_." She looked ashamed. "I've been so busy I haven't-"

"Of course," he blurted out, "Whatever you need."

She relaxed and let her hands drop. "Tomorrow? I'm free after midday," she said hopefully.

Cullen certainly _wasn't_. 

He still nodded wordlessly anyway.

"Excellent," she said with a grin, "I'll meet you in the Chantry?"

He was about to nod again but hesitated. "Perhaps not there. It has been occupied often as of late. I wouldn't want your efforts to be interrupted, or to turn any faith seekers away," he said quietly.

"Oh. Good point. Umm," she murmured, thinking. "My chambers? We won't be disturbing anyone there."

"Ye- _Yes_. That should work," he replied, lifting an arm to scratch nervously at the back of his neck.

Damnit, he could feel himself blushing.

"Thank you," she said happily, "Until tomorrow then." She gave him one more grin before turning and leaving the war room, heading towards the bath she didn't yet know awaited her. 

He watched her go until he spotted the king standing near the door. Alistair had hung back, no doubt to wait for Elissa and it made Cullen's hackles rise.

Curiously the man only tilted his head to her as she passed, exchanging a few quiet words Cullen couldn't make out. He made no attempt to follow her exit. When the commander eventually made to leave, the stack of papers tucked neatly under his arm, the king turned towards him and arched an inquisitive eyebrow.

"A clandestine meeting in her quarters instead of the public Chantry? _Tsk tsk_ , what would people _say_?" Alistair goaded. 

"They would say she's having a private meeting with her Commander," Cullen said curtly as he brushed past.

" _Hmm_ ," the king hummed, eyeing him suspiciously.

Cullen managed to keep his smirk at bay until he was halfway back to his office.


	54. Center of Attention

Fortunately for Elissa the meeting with her advisors wasn't a long one. _Unfortunately_ the hour had already been quite late when she first arrived at the castle. It was closer to the next dawn than the previous dusk when she finally returned to her quarters, almost too tired to be excited to sleep on something other than a sandy bedroll. She had begun to eagerly strip out of her somehow-still-sandy clothing before she had even started up the stairs.

Tomorrow was going to be a long day. Her return would catalyze a whirlwind of activity as the news her group brought back spread quickly through the ranks. In many regions of the world the term _blood magic_ was synonymous with _fear_ and Skyhold was no different. The Inquisition was there to fight against that fear though and it was a purpose its swelling numbers took seriously. It wouldn't be long before the entire attitude of the organization would become sharper somehow. More focused. _Determined_. The darker things got those under her leadership only braced themselves to fight harder... All the while looking at her with a growing reverence that was rapidly making Elissa want to shrink away. They had started calling her “ _Your Worship”_ not long ago, which certainly wasn't helping. Saving the Warden mages from the clutches of Corypheus would only suffice to raise her reputation even higher.

She dragged herself up the last few steps into her chambers to find a fire already blazing in the hearth. The sandy clothing in her hand slipped from her fingertips as she saw the steaming bath waiting for her. She stood there for several moments at the top of the stairs, half undressed and utterly weary, grateful tears welling up in her eyes.

The mysterious note Cullen had sent during their meeting now made sense. Elissa crossed the room and her hands trembled slightly as she gently touched the surface of the bath. Little ripples danced across the water as warmth spread through to her fingertips for the first time since she had returned to the frozen Frostbacks. She very nearly ran down to Cullen's office to thank him but the warm water and the promise of finally being free of sand was far too tempting.

Elissa hadn't realized how much she had missed the commander until she returned to Skyhold. One moment she was slipping off her horse trying to gauge how much longer before she would be able to close her eyes and then he was _there_. As he stole away her heavy pack from her shoulder he lifted far more from her than just her physical burden. Relief had crashed through her like a rogue wave. Travelling with Alistair had been... _enlightening_ , but _Maker’s Breath_ she was surprised at how excited she was to be back home.

As she sank into the steaming water she felt her burdens melt away even further from her shoulders into the warmth surrounding her. She would never truly be free of them, at least not until Corypheus was defeated, but she could give herself this short moment to be someone other than the Herald of Andraste or the Hero of Ferelden. To just be Elissa Cousland... or at least a close approximation.

The memories she had recovered of growing up as a Teyrn’s daughter had left Elissa somewhat prepared for eyes being on her. Discreetly watching. Subtlety critiquing. At least back then she had still been _Elissa._ Even the generic _my lady_ still recognized that she was an individual. The way they looked at her now... she was just the _Inquisitor_. The _Herald_. The _Hero_. A beacon of faith or an icon of respect. She barely felt like a person anymore under the blatant gaze that followed her everywhere she went. At least in Highever they had tried to be inconspicuous.

The Inquisition may have an unwavering faith in her but Elissa dearly lacked their confidence. She felt like she was only scrambling to put out fires as they came up. Succeeding either by the skin of her teeth or relying on her mage counterpart swooping in to save the day when Elissa found herself out of her depth. She didn't feel like much of a Hero, Herald or any of the other titles she had accumulated.

She felt like a fraud. An _imposter_.

If anything it was those closest to her that should be credited with her victories. Cullen led the Inquisition forces. Leliana, though still not entirely forgiven for keeping secrets from Elissa, managed an entire spy network. Josephine worked her own kind of magic with words and formality. Out in the field it was her companions supporting her. And then there was Evelyn... without her Elissa would be _nothing,_ in the most literal sense of the word.

She desperately hoped she wasn't leading them all to their doom. Elissa didn’t want any more blood on her hands or guilt on her conscience. And she _certainly_ wasn’t ready to become a martyr. So she would endure, if only because she had no other option left to her.

Eventually Elissa pulled herself out of the bath before she fell asleep in it. What a debacle that would be... The formidable Inquisitor drowning in the tub from exhaustion. She dressed sluggishly, eager to slip into her bed. As she crawled into her nest of blankets without feeding the fire a part of her rued the choice but the rest of her was too tired to care about waking in a cold room.

For once she slept through the night, her dreams untroubled with night terrors. She woke rested, albeit chilly, without aches in her back or knots in her shoulders. It was a welcome change.

She dressed slowly, all too aware of the watchful gazes that awaited her downstairs. For once she was reluctant to leave the solitude of her own company, but there was work to be done. There would _always_ be work to be done.

She spent the morning away from the prying eyes in the Undercroft with Harritt and Dagna. Fortunately the smithy didn't get many visitors, out of the way as it was. Elissa tried, very poorly, to convince herself she wasn't hiding. Her armour did need a fair bit of attention, but there were only so many excuses to linger.

One of which was talking with Dagna about runes and masterworks, trying to determine the best way to further augment her gear. The cheerful dwarf was all too willing to discuss the topics at length but it wasn’t long before Elissa couldn’t follow along anymore. The Arcanist could have been speaking a dead language instead of Common for all the sense it made to Elissa. Harritt seemed accustomed to the dwarf's tangents and simply worked in silence, ignoring them both.

She let her mind drift as Dagna spoke, nodding every now and then to keep the conversation from lapsing. She had arranged to meet Cullen after midday, but she had greatly underestimated the the dwarf's quick skill in affixing runes. Every dent had already been buffed out from her gear with Harritt's help and even the scratches were polished until the metal reflected Elissa's face like an unblemished mirror.

She was still early to meet the commander but it couldn't be helped. Dagna and Harritt had other duties to attend to and Elissa had already kept them long enough. She politely bid the pair farewell, collecting her gleaming armour in her arms.

“Oh yes,” Dagna said excitedly, “You’re meeting with Commander Cullen.”

That caught Elissa off guard. 

“How did you-“ Elissa began with a confused frown but Dagna continued on, seemingly indifferent to the effect her words had on her company.

”It is a little odd to see you with him, I’ll admit. You and Alist- _King Alistair_ were so close when I met you in Orzammar. I guess the commander is handsome in his own way, if you like your men clean-shaven and freakishly _tall-“_

Blood drained from Elissa's face only to surge back with a ferocious blush. She needed to leave _. Now._

”In- Inquisitor? Are you unwell?” Dagna asked as Elissa fled out of the Undercroft like it was on fire. Her _face_ certainly was.

That a woman who spent so much time tinkering away in seclusion was this well informed... _Andraste preserve her..._ the whole of Skyhold must be talking about this. 

Perhaps she had dismissed the idea of martyrdom too hastily.

Had Cullen caught wind of this? He _must_ have. He spent more than enough time down in the barracks among the gossiping recruits. News spread from the castle to the soldiers faster than a raven could carry it.

She closed the door behind her with a muffled groan. So she was a beacon of faith... _with a noteworthy romantic life._ And she had invited the commander to her bedroom. _Fool_. She let her forehead fall into the Undercroft door with a thud, closing her eyes and bracing herself before facing the collective stare of the main hall.

Elissa turned without fumbling her gear across the throne room floor, which was a small victory in her opinion, distracted as she was.

Her eyes immediately fell on Cullen standing just outside the entrance to her chambers, his back to her.

 _He is early too_ , she noted with a small smile.


	55. Away From Prying Eyes

Elissa watched as Cullen held up a single hand to knock at her door but paused just short of actually making contact. His hand hovered in the air for a moment until his broad shoulders heaved as he let out a sigh and the hand dropped. She knew it was hypocritical, watching him just as she loathed to be watched herself, but she couldn’t help herself. 

He turned and seated himself on a stool next to her door, clutching a book under his arm. He had only just sat when he noticed her and immediately stood once again, his face a subtle shade of pink.

”I’m early,” he said quickly, “I didn’t want to impose if you were still busy.” His voice was raised to reach her across the hall.

She cringed and felt her cheeks begin to flush as every single eye in the throne room turned to watch them raptly.

“Commander,” she said awkwardly, crossing the dias quickly, “Thank you for meeting me.”

Cullen’s eyebrow arched ever so slightly in response to her formality though he gave nothing else away. He might sometimes struggle to string a sentence together around her but the man could be infuriatingly stoic when he wanted. He pulled the door open for her and she nearly tripped over her own feet in her haste to get through and away from prying eyes.

He let the heavy wood close behind them with a dull echoing thud and watched her curiously. "Are you alright?" he asked softly.

She turned back to face him, grimacing. "I was in the Undercroft all morning. With Dagna."

His features grew alarmed and his eyes quickly looked her over for any sign of injury. Her grimace turned into a reassuring smile.

"No, nothing like that. We just worked on my armour," Elissa paused and shifted her gear in her arms, suddenly a little nervous. She swallowed, letting her gaze fall past Cullen instead of meeting his eye directly. "Apparently even she knew we were meeting today."

Now it was his turn to grimace. He appeared almost apologetic. 

"You wouldn’t believe how quickly gossip spreads through the barracks," he said with a sigh.

She eyed him with concern evident on her face, "Does it bother you?"

"I would rather my- _our_ \- private affairs remain that way," he admitted and she felt her heart beat a little faster when he corrected to _our_ , "But if there were nothing here for people to talk about I would regret it more."

She eyed him for a moment. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

His face seemed confused, " _For_?"

"You're always stuck here, at least I can leave from time to time," she replied meekly.

His expression grew softer, "It's a small price to pay for..." he trailed off, looking down and scratching at the back of his neck with his free hand, "For spending time with you," he finished quietly.

She took an involuntary step towards him but with her arms full of armour stopped and settled for a small smile. That Cullen didn’t seem terribly put out by the rumours calmed Elissa somewhat.

However, she could still practically _hear_ the thoughts from the nobles on the other side of the door. There wasn’t a single soul in the throne room who was aware just what exactly Cullen was here to do; Evelyn's existence wasn't exactly common knowledge. In the absence of that information the gossiping nobles were undoubtably filling in their own theories... and being from Orlais they were probably more than a little graphic. She blushed at the thought.

Elissa found herself staring at Cullen’s breastplate and wondering, not for the first time, what exactly lay beneath. Only rarely had she even seen the man not wearing his usual armour, but never had she seen his chest or arms bare. Did he have more scars to compliment the one on his lip? She felt her blush deepen as a fierce longing to know filled her.

Cullen cleared his throat and she snapped her attention back to his face. His brow was cocked again though his amber eyes were a shade darker than a moment ago. She realized she had started biting at her lower lip and quickly released it. Her mouth opened to offer an excuse for her lingering gaze but only a quiet groan escaped. She snapped it back closed and his lip pulled into a lopsided grin. She scowled to hide her embarrassment. He grinned wider.

"You know what they are all thinking now," she said, gesturing back past them towards the main hall.

"I, _uh-_ " he stammered, "I can imagine." His cheeks turned a shade of pink.

He glanced behind him at the door. "We can go elsewhere if you'd like," he offered, turning around to face her again. 

She considered it briefly but only sighed, shaking her head. There were few places in Skyhold they would be uninterrupted and she had little interest in venturing down into the dark bowels of the fortress. Cullen nodded and stood a little straighter. She noticed the book under his arm again.

"What's that?" she asked, tilting her chin to it, eager for a change in topic.

He followed her gaze and held it out. The title was etched across the cover in gleaming golden letters.

 _The Chant of Light_.

"I realized last time I'm a little rusty. Bringing this along felt easier than trying to commit it all to memory."

She smiled. "It doesn't have to be the Chant, you know. It's more just the sound of your voice."

He seemed taken aback.

"My- my _voice_?" he repeated, his voice ironically cracking on the last word.

"I find it... calming," she replied with a shrug and turned to head up the steps to conceal her reddening face.

Cullen followed in silence, apparently lost in thought. At the top of the stairs she gestured for him to sit on the couch in front of the fire.

"No need to kneel, I think," she explained. Her knees had taken days to forgive her the last time she attempted to reach Evelyn on the hard stone floor in the Chantry. Cullen had offered no complaint but she guessed he had fared no better. 

He nodded and sat stiffly on the edge of the sofa, still deep in thought. She deposited her armour in a heap on her bed and retrieved the water pitcher from her nightstand. She returned and placed it on the table next to him with a clean glass. Another oversight from the last time she wanted to correct. He seemed surprised.

"Thank you," he said, finally breaking the silence. He stared at the water, then back at her.

" _Thank_ _you_ for the bath," she replied as she sat next to him. She turned to give him a smile.

He met her gaze quietly. This close she found herself again counting the black flecks in his amber eyes as the silence continued undisturbed. Once, this closeness would have left her a blushing mess, but now it felt... _comfortable_. The rumourmongers in the castle weren't actually that far from the truth apparently. 

He shifted abruptly, lifting a hand to gently brush a strand of loose hair from her face. His fingers lingered behind her ear.

"I..." he said in hardly more than a whisper, his eyes searching hers. 

She realized she was holding her breath and let it out slowly. His eyes dropped to her lips and her breath caught once more.

Without warning he let his hand drop, turning away and clearing his throat.

"Cullen?" she said quietly, turning his name into a question she wasn't entirely sure how to put into words.

"You asked me here for a purpose," he said awkwardly, staring at the fire. 

"Cullen," she repeated.

"I'm overstepping your hospitality," he continued, frowning. 

" _Cullen_ ," she repeated again, more sternly this time.

He opened _The Chant of Light,_ looking down and not meeting her gaze. She pulled the book away from his grasp.

"Just because I asked you to help me doesn't mean I didn't actually want to spend time with you," she said, leaning across his lap to put the book on the table with the water. She sat back, crossing her legs to sit facing him. He stared determinedly forward and away.

 _"I missed you,_ Cullen. I was looking forward to this. Don't ruin it by being all-" she gestured in the air, trying to find the right word, "By being _Commander Cullen_."

At that he turned and stared at her incredulously, though his expression softened a fraction.

"I _am_ Commander Cullen," he retorted, the corner of his lip twitching slightly upwards.

"You know what I mean," she muttered under her breath. 

He sighed, relaxing a bit. "I didn't want to presume," he said quietly, "You were away for so long..."

 _Away with Alistair,_ he meant. She felt a pang of guilt, though whether it was directed at her time with the king or her present company she wasn't sure. In truth she was being remarkably unfair to them both.

She brushed the thought aside.

"I'm back now," she said.

"That you are," he responded.

He watched her again for a moment before he stood and began unfastening his chestplate. She eyed him curiously and his fingers slipped on a buckle.

"I- I _wasn't_ -" he stopped and closed his eyes, huffing out a sigh. "I figured I might as well be comfortable."

"By all means," she grinned and sat back against the couch, watching silently.

He removed his armour carefully, placing it in a neat pile beside the table. Elissa glanced at her own gear, scattered as it was across her bed, and grimaced. She _should_ take better care of it.

He placed the final piece with the others and sat back down on the couch. He seemed smaller without the heavy armour and furry mantle.

"There we go," she said happily, "No more _Commander Cullen_."

He let out a nervous chuckle, avoiding her eyes and looking instead at the crackling fire. Elissa felt that he wore his armour for more than just physical protection. It signified his rank, keeping himself at a safe distance from those around him. Where her titles smothered her, he drew strength from his. That he took that all off now, here with her, was a sign of trust.

"What will it be then?" she asked, "The Chant of Light or tales of your youthful exploits?"

He turned to look at her skeptically. "I'm not sure what you've heard but I assure you, I have no exploits to regale you with."

" _Really_ ," she said with dubious frown, "I don't believe that for a moment."

He didn't reply and she stared at him incredulously. Women must have thrown themselves at him left and right. Did he just... _not notice_? Or were the women in Kirkwall all blind?

"You didn't leave anyone behind in Kirkwall?" she asked, carefully.

"No," he said with a shrug. "I fear I made few friends there and my family is in Ferelden."

She leaned forward a fraction, "No one special caught your interest?"

He watched her carefully for a moment before simply replying, "Not in Kirkwall."

She flushed crimson and leaned back, turning her face away.

"Chant of Light it is then," she murmured. 

He continued to watch her another moment before smirking and turning away. He picked the book back up from the table and opened it to a seemingly random page. He took a deep breath and Elissa watched his chest rise from the corner of her eye.

" _Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide_ ," he began and Elissa took a deep steadying breath, pulling her attention from him and closing her eyes.

" _I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond_ ," he continued, and she let herself slip down into herself.

" _For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light and nothing that He has wrought shall be lost_..."


	56. Speculating

Dorian sat in his favourite spot in Skyhold; the little library alcove, tucked away on a middle floor in the castle's largest tower. Few passed by here save for Leliana's scouts, making their way up and down the stairs in near unbroken silence. The spymaster's messenger ravens could be heard squawking from time to time up above but Dorian had grown to find the noise comforting. It was a reminder that, even out here buried in the mountains, they were still connected to the rest of the world.

Down below Solas could sometimes be heard humming softly to himself as he painted. The elf had a surprising degree of talent for the art. He was always calm and composed, even in the heat of battle, but with a brush in his hand he seemed downright _serene_. As far as Dorian knew he had never sought out permission to decorate the walls, though no one had dared to interrupt his efforts; the elf could wield a flat stare as effectively as Cullen did a sword. Elissa had seemed a little embarrassed seeing her exploits and victories celebrated across the walls, but even she had admitted to their beauty.

Zevran often joined Dorian these days in his little alcove, causually discussing topics of mutual interest or just sitting in a comfortable silence while they read. For a man who spent so much of his life in battle or in bed in a tangle of limbs, Zevran was surprisingly well read. Even after all these months Dorian still wasn't entirely sure what to make of the Antivan. The shamelessly charming elf was so open and forthright it kept Dorian off balance. He was so accustomed to a world where giving too much of oneself to anyone could be warped into political advantage. As heir to a seat in the magisterium Dorian could never let his guard down, even with the women he had been forced to keep up appearances with. It was hard to break those old habits. With Zevran though, he was trying.

Dorian cast a furtive glance over the spine of the book he had been leafing through. Zevran stood tall, facing away from Dorian and scanning the titles of the books along the wall. One hand rested lightly on his hip, the other stroking his smooth chin thoughtfully, considering his choices. As he shifted down to peruse a lower shelf Dorian's eyes were drawn to his rear.

Zevran certainly did have a fine ass.

"If you'd like, I can have it sketched for you," Zevran murmured without turning around.

" _Hmm_?" Dorian intoned curiously, trying to mask his surprise at being caught. There was once a time he had taken pride in his ability to be discreet but _nothing_ went unnoticed to the elf's sharp eyes; even if they were turned away and otherwise occupied.

Zevran turned and met his gaze, his lips pulling into one of the smiles Dorian found so disarming. He wriggled his hindquarters suggestively.

"A sketch you say," Dorian said, amused.

"To do with as you please," Zevran continued, his gaze direct and unabashed.

"Think Elissa would reconsider the Inquisition sigil?" Dorian laughed softly, turning back to his book.

"If not we could make copies, distribute them through the barracks. Remind the men what they are fighting to protect," Zevran offered. Dorian knew he was kidding, but also knew he would be perfectly willing to do it. The man was as confident as he was shameless.

Dorian just scoffed.

"No?" Zevran pouted. 

"Cullen would have a stroke," Dorian chastised. Truth be told he was dangerously tempted. The look on the commander's face would almost certainly be worth it.

"You're not wrong," Zevran agreed with a sigh. "I daresay there is only one ass he's interested in seeing anyway," he paused for a moment as his eyes took on a mischievous gleam, "Think Elissa would pose to be sketched?"

Dorian shot the elf a look.

Discussing the Inquisitor's suitors was a somewhat heated point of contention between the two. Dorian was a steadfast supporter of Alistair, having been with Elissa in the dark future and witnessing their brief reunion in Redcliffe. Zevran, despite knowing them both so well a decade ago, infuriatingly supported Cullen.

 _"Alistair only wants the woman she was,"_ the elf had explained. _"Cullen likes the woman she is."_

Zevran was always quick to mention Elissa wasn't _Elissa._ The point was largely lost on Dorian, who firmly believed her shift in personality was only born from her missing memory. Despite the months that had passed since Redcliffe, the Tevinter mage was no closer to discovering a way to return her to normal.

"It's not like the man hasn't seen it already. Or have you missed how those two look at each other?" Zevran said unapologetically.

"Cullen blushes easier than a Chantry sister in a brothel. If he'd seen her naked the whole of Skyhold would know," Dorian said flatly. "Besides, she just spent weeks cuddling up with the king. Who's to say she even _wants_ the commander to see her ass?"

Zevran's slender ears twitched, the way they always did when something caught his interest in earnest. 

"Did something happen?" he asked.

"We had our own tents, wouldn't have been hard for one of them to sneak in for a quiet visit," Dorian said with a satisfied smirk.

Zevran leaned back, his interest fading.

"What?" Dorian asked, his brow creasing with confusion.

"Elissa and Alistair were a great many things, but _quiet_ was not one of them," the elf chuckled, "You would have known."

Before he could reply Varric appeared, storming up the steps. He stomped directly towards the little alcove. Dorian met his eyes and the dwarf held up a threatening finger.

"I should have you tarred and feathered, Sparkles," the dwarf grumbled.

Dorian arched an eyebrow.

"You gave Oghren one of my books," Varric said accusingly.

"Perhaps," Dorian half-admitted with a smirk.

"Turns out he's a huge fan," Varric growled. "And. He. Will. Not. Leave. Me. Alone." Each word was punctuated with a frustrated shake of his extended hands.

"Do you not want more readers?" Dorian asked innocently.

Varric fixed the mage in a flat stare. "I'll be the first to admit my readers aren't necessarily the most upstanding citizens in Thedas, but _Andraste's ass_ , have you spent more than a minute talking to him? I've seen latrines in Darktown cleaner than his mouth."

"Why do you think I gave him the book?" Dorian grinned wickedly. The distraction had given him a few nights of blessed peace during their return to Skyhold.

Varric just glared at him as he sauntered into the alcove and sat down in the vacant chair. "Well, thanks to you I can't lurk in the main hall without him cornering me with... _suggestions_." Varric shuddered. "As such, no gossiping nobles to occupy my time. So you two will have to do." He looked between them expectantly, "Now what are we discussing?"

"Our esteemed Inquisitor and her devastatingly handsome suitors," Zevran offered freely.

"I didn't know you could describe someone other than yourself like that," Varric laughed easily.

Zevran grinned, his eyes lingering on Dorian briefly before he winked at the mage. "Credit where credit is due."

Varric ignored the pair's flirtations. "Those three are a popular topic these days. I should really write something about them," he said, considering.

"To be fair, Oghren could probably paint you a lovely _descriptive_ backstory," Zevran offered. 

"Birdy," Varric warned, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Don't even start with me."

"We were just speculating whether or not our dear Elissa has had her way with either of them," Dorian said quickly, keeping Zevran from antagonizing the dwarf further.

"If she hadn't before," Varric said quietly, his eyes sliding back to Dorian teasingly, "She very well may have by now."

Dorian leaned forward conspiratorially in his chair, his fingertips pressed together and elbows resting on his knees. "What do you know, dwarf?" 

Varric made a dramatic display of inspecting a fingernail in the light from the window as he spoke. "Cullen and Elissa have been locked away in her quarters for _hours_ , with explict instructions they were not to be disturbed," the dwarf explained. "Alistair has been pacing the throne room like a bloodthirsty Mabari all afternoon."

Dorian and Zevran exchanged a look, the latter wearing a smug grin.

Dorian scowled. "That could mean anything," he argued, leaning back with a dismissive wave.

"Or it could mean _everything_ ," Zevran said triumphantly. "I wonder how loud Cullen is when he-"

Someone cleared their throat loudly behind Dorian.

The trio turned in startled unison to face a particularly _furious_ looking Commander Cullen. That he had managed to approach the group without alerting any of them was a critically poor reflection on the group's skill in perception.

The commander's hands were clenched tightly into fists at his sides and, despite his obvious rage, Dorian didn't miss the blush creeping up to the man's ears. 

"Dorian," he said with a voice strained from either anger or embarrassment _or both_ , "You are required in the war room. Immediately."

Cullen glared at them for another moment before he turned abruptly, making his way back down the stairs without another word. His boots echoed against the stone. Dorian must have been engrossed indeed to have missed that much of a clatter.

"About fifty-fifty," Varric said after several heartbeats, breaking the silence.

"I'm sorry, what?" Dorian asked, taking in his first breath since Cullen scared the last one out of him.

"The odds the commander is going to run you through the moment you set foot in that room," Varric continued, "I'd say it's fifty-fifty."

Dorian narrowed his eyes at Zevran. " _Vishante Kaffas_ ," he cursed, "This is entirely your fault."

The elf only grinned widely. 

"You can punish me later," he promised with a wink, "But for now, run along and do try to avoid being stabbed by any handsome ex-Templars."


	57. Breaking Point

Elissa was alone in the war room, standing at the head of the table. She shifted between her feet impatiently waiting for the others to arrive.

She had managed a link with Evelyn, albeit briefly. Her concentration had lasted long enough not to break the contact immediately this time. However, trying to communicate was clearly going to take more practice. Elissa had hoped for a conversation of sorts but the link had been more like an exchange of abstract thoughts and words that were unfortunately lost because she couldn't keep her focus. 

It was like trying to have a whispered conversation while fighting an army. And a high dragon. Without a weapon. In the _dark_. By the time her focus had been exhausted she had gotten just enough for a vague explanation of what Evelyn had done to save the Wardens. She hoped her more experienced mage companions would be able to fill in the gaps before they embarked towards Adamant.

There were a million questions she had for Evelyn and Elissa fervently hoped with time she would be able to get some answers. Reaching her this time had been significantly easier than before. Perhaps going into it knowing it was possible had helped. Knowing what she was trying to find likely hurried things along as well.

Elissa's eyes shot up as the door swung open and Cullen entered the room like a storm, his face dark. She looked at him with concern but he wouldn't meet her eye as he crossed the chamber. 

"Are you alright?" she asked quietly as he took his place beside her.

He glanced at her quickly before shifting his eyes back down to the war table and reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck.

"I'm never going into the tower again," he muttered.

She continued to eye him curiously though he offered nothing else. Cullen was probably one of the most private people she had ever met. A part of her longed to get behind the walls he kept up with everyone. Another part didn't want to invade his privacy. 

While he was fighting he was a different man entirely. Utterly confident in his ability. Bold. _Brave_. He could brush against her during a spar, even flat out pin her to the ground, without hesitation. The moment the sword left his hand though... He could barely stand within an arm's reach of her without being visibly _nervous_. 

Not that she could claim she was any different. 

Anders arrived before she could question Cullen further. Dorian entered shortly afterward and Elissa noted how the commander shifted slightly away from where he stood at her side as the Tevinter mage approached the table.

Solas and Vivenne arrived next, chatting with one another about Orlesian tea. Those she had summoned eyed each other curiously as they took their places around the table.

"I've managed to get an explanation of sorts from Evelyn," Elissa began, "About how she saved the Warden mages from Corypheus."

"You've been successful reaching the mage again?" Anders asked, interested.

Elissa nodded, "Cullen has been helping me." 

"So _that_ is what you two were up to," Dorian said, his words dripping with implication.

Elissa felt her cheeks flush.

"Wh- _What_?" she stammered.

"Locking yourself away in your quarters with a strapping ex-templar, you had to assume people would _talk_ ," the mage grinned.

Elissa just stared at the Tevinter, completely caught off guard. When had Dorian joined the rest of Skyhold in their idle gossip? She dared a glance at Cullen. The man was crimson, and determinedly looking _anywhere_ but at her.

"Dorian. No. We were just-" she began, pulling her eyes away from the commander. 

" _Just_. _Meditating_." Cullen interjected stiffly.

_Ah._

_"I'm never going into the tower again."_

Now it was starting to make sense. Cullen had overheard a conversation he wished he hadn't in the tower once before when Elissa returned from Denerim. Judging by the smirk on Dorian's face her fiercely private commander had found himself in a similar position _again_.

Absently she entertained the idea of tying bells onto his armour, if only to keep him out of this situation in the future. 

Just what Cullen had overheard was another matter entirely. Had Dorian been discussing their trek through the Western Approach? There was no shortage of detail the mage could have brought up to make the commander uneasy. Or had he been discussing Cullen himself? Picking him apart with his dry witty sarcasm. 

Elissa felt her frustration begin to rise.

It didn't help that Dorian had been subtly biased towards Alistair almost from the very beginning. He had never tried to overtly discourage Cullen directly though, especially since she had refused to allow the mage to speak to the commander on her behalf after Denerim. Dorian had his opinions but he kept them to himself... although perhaps not so much as Elissa had previously thought.

Cullen had said himself he could deal with the soldiers gossiping, that it was better than them having nothing to talk about at all. But those closer to him, and _her_ , should know better than to be openly discussing private affairs. The last thing she needed was some errand boy overhearing her inner circle chatting openly about privileged information. 

She ran through the details of her contact with Evelyn quickly, now eager for the meeting to be over. The mages had some ideas, though more research would be needed before anything could be put into practice. They would begin testing theories and Elissa was to continue trying to reach Evelyn with a list of clarifying questions her mages drew up for her.

Elissa's own questions would need to wait.

She concluded the meeting and her companions began to slowly file out of the room.

"Dorian, a word," she said quietly.

The mage acknowledged her request and lingered at the table as the room began to empty. Cullen left almost immediately, citing paperwork he needed to return to in his office.

Elissa bid him farewell with a small smile. He paused, his mouth beginning to tug into a returning grin but his face went dark again as Dorian cleared his throat loudly. Cullen turned with a stiff nod and left the room without a word.

Elissa's frustration was threatening to boil over.

She paced the room in silence, listening to the footsteps echoing down the hallway. When the two were finally alone she spun, her face abandoning it's calm expression as she rounded on the mage.

"You," she growled.

" _Me?_ " he retorted, intrigued.

"You've been talking about me. About _Cullen_ ," she continued.

He stared at her, a brief bit of uncertainty flashing behind his eyes.

"I died saving this Maker forsaken world once already, Dorian. I may yet again because you lot couldn't keep it bloody _saved_. My days are spent wading through blood and carnage and _death_."

Dorian seemed... confused.

"If I can find a little light amidst all that darkness I expect to be able to enjoy it without becoming the topic of your idle gossip." 

Dorian at least had the presence of mind to look mildly humbled, though it did little to curb her anger.

"Inquisi-"

"If I decide," she continued, cutting Dorian off, "to take Cullen back to my quarters and the whole of Skyhold hears me screaming his bloody name I expect you to _have my back_ and not be _gossiping behind it_ ," she snarled.

The door to the war room closed behind her, the heavy wood echoing and the latch sliding back into place with a soft _clink_.

All the blood drained out of Elissa's face.

Dorian was failing miserably to conceal a sly grin.

Footsteps approached from behind her. She saw the furry mantle in her periphery before she saw him. Her eyes never left Dorian's face. The mage watched the commander with a cool expression, one eyebrow slightly arched and he turned to watch the man as he walked to the war table without a word.

Of all the people in Skyhold... Cullen was the one to overhear her little tyraid. _Cullen_. Andraste preserve her.

She was going to tie bells onto every blasted piece of his armour.

He collected a few sheets of parchment from the table and turned, retreating back towards the door the way he had come. 

This time he paused, just beside her. He tilted his face towards her, but kept his eyes fixed on the door at the front of the room.

"Inquisitor," he said quietly, but she could practically _hear_ the smirk. He was supposed to be the one to blush easily, yet here they stood and his face bore no hint of even a slight flush.

 _Of course_ he would find his confidence the moment hers fled. 

She didn't reply. She didn't look away from Dorian who still watched the commander with open amusement. She didn't breathe.

"This never happened?" he asked, his voice quiet and infuriatingly composed.

She managed to claw back enough bodily autonomy to stiffly nod her head once. She saw him nod his head in acknowledgement before continuing out of the room.

Moments passed as she and Dorian stood in silence, listening to the commander's footsteps echoing down the hallway and through the ambassador's office.

"To be clear, this having your back thing. Does it start now or _after_ Skyhold hears you screaming like a banshee?" the mage asked, grinning from ear to ear.

" _Dorian_."

He grinned and linked his arm through hers, turning her around to lead them out of the chamber.

"Let's go get you a drink."


	58. One Too Many

The door to Cullen’s office swung open, allowing in a gust of brisk mountain air. The commander frowned as the wind ravaged his desk, scattering a few loose pages and threatening to extinguish the candles illuminating his work. He turned his attention towards the visitor, already preparing to tell the messenger off. How had they not yet figured out that opening the door in this weather meant-

It was Elissa. She seemed to be struggling with the door, the strong wind fighting against her attempts to close it. The wind pulling at her hair and clothing gave her a somewhat wild look as she gave the door a shove with her shoulder. Finally the heavy wood slammed shut, blocking the cold mountain air from sending his orderly office into further disarray. 

She turned to look at him over her shoulder, her expression apologetic. "Sorry," she said with a contrite grimace.

Cullen's face shifted from irritation into a small smile. It had only been a few hours since their encounter in the war room. He was relieved she wasn't trying to avoid him after that... _display_.

She moved to take a step away from the door but stumbled backwards almost immediately. She fell, somewhat ungracfully, onto her behind. Cullen was on his feet in a moment, hastily crossing the room.

Elissa looked around, obviously confused. As he reached her she eyed a part of her cloak that had gotten wedged in the door as it shut. She gave it a tug but it remained firmly trapped. She let out a long sigh as he crouched next to her.

"I'm stuck," she said, defeated. This close Cullen could practically _see_ the fumes emanating off of her. He scrunched up his nose.

"Elissa," he said with care, "You smell like a tavern floor."

She shot him a look and opened her mouth as if to argue but her sour expression fell away just as fast as it came. The only sound to escape her lips was a cheerful laugh. The noise chased away the chill that the wind had brought, draping over Cullen like a warm blanket.

"You're probably not wrong. _Blunt_. But not wrong," she chuckled.

Cullen grasped the cloak and with a strong yank freed the material from the door. Elissa beamed at him.

"You saved me," she announced enthusiastically without even a hint of sarcasm. He cocked an eyebrow at her. She stared back at him, unblinking. Maker, she _was_ drunk. 

"Oghren and Bull agreed to drink _twice_ for every one the rest of us drank," she said, answering his unvoiced thoughts. She spoke in a hushed tone like she was telling a secret, though her voice was far louder than it needed to be to reach his ears. 

Cullen felt his mouth pull into a smirk. The dwarf and Qunari had pulled this prank a number of times on fresh recruits. Those who had suffered the aftermath the following day never warned their newer brethren of the ploy, and it had become somewhat of a wayward rite of passage among the soldiers. He doubted that pair could lose if they drank three or four times for every drink their unfortunate marks drank.

"And how much did _you_ drink," he asked lightly, certain Bull at least would have kept her from going too overboard. 

Elissa held out her hand and stared at her fingers. She moved them around as if trying to count, squinting hard even though they were just in front of her face. The anchor pulsed dully within her palm. With a groan she let her hand drop and leaned back against the door letting her eyes close. "One too many," she groaned.

Cullen thought perhaps it was a few more than one too many. Elissa frowned, her eyes still closed. "Oghren told me I used to be able to handle my ale," she continued, her voice finally beginning to modulate.

She opened her eyes again and turned to look at him directly. "I think he _lied_ ," she said seriously, though she let out a loud _hiccup_ at the end of her accusation. Almost immediately her hands flew out to brace herself. One landed against Cullen's knee and he felt her grip tightly. 

"Cullen," she said, alarmed, "Your office is _spinning_."

He smiled at her softly and shook his head. "No, that's just you," he said quietly, standing up and unfolding to his full height. He held out his hand to help her up and she took it. He pulled her to her feet and she seemed about as steady as a newborn colt.

"As one of your advisors, I advise you to get some sleep before you fall off the battlements," he said.

Elissa waved him off, "I'm fine, really," she insisted, before promptly leaning too far to one side and over-correcting with a step to rebalance herself and bumping into his bookshelf. Her eyes darted to his through her disheveled hair. "I meant to do that," she said, then nodded to herself as if congratulating herself for the clever cover. 

Cullen sighed, eyeing her, "How did you even get here?"

Her brows knit together. "I don't know. My feet just sort of carried me here," she replied with a shrug. After a short struggle with her cloak she managed to unclasp the heavy wool from her shoulders, letting the material drop unceremoniously to the floor in a heap.

"It's a miracle you didn't fall and break your neck getting up the steps," he murmured, more to himself than her.

She pushed off from the shelf and marched past him towards his desk. There she leaned over to inspect his work, inadvertently giving Cullen a less-than-innocent view of her backside. He quickly pulled his eyes away and moved around to the other side of his desk.

"What's this?" she asked, oblivious to the predicament she put him in. He glanced at the parchment, welcoming any distraction.

"Plans for the seige of Adamant," he replied. 

"Looks... _complicated_ ," she murmured, leafing through the pages the wind had scattered. 

"It's no simple task, sending you into the belly of the beast while trying to keep you safe," he said earnestly. He would try to keep all of his soldiers safe as best he could, but Elissa was irreplaceable. Losing her meant losing the war entirely. The bulk of his planning had been dedicated to keeping her supplied and protected.

Something caught her attention and she picked the parchment up, reading. She frowned, glancing up at him over the page.

"You're coming to Adamant?" she asked, apparently surprised at the news.

"Naturally," he said, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. He had planned to lead the contingent of Templars assigned to support her efforts with suppressing the Warden mages. Elissa frowned back at the page.

"I didn't realize..." she trailed off.

"Do you _not_ want me there?" he asked, trying to keep the disappointment from his voice.

Her eyes flashed back to his and she shook her head. "No, no. It's not that. I just-" she paused, averting her gaze from his back to the paper. "I didn't realize you'd be in the thick of it."

He relaxed, a soft smile forming at her words. _He's important to me_. "I'll be just fine," he reassured her. " _You're_ the one we should be worried about," he added, gesturing to the paperwork piled atop his desk, "Hence all this."

She eyed it all, her brows raising. "This is all about _me_?"

"More or less," he replied honestly, "The Inquisition fails without you."

She stared down at the scattered pages a moment longer before placing her page back on his desk. She turned, sliding down to the floor in front of his desk until Cullen could only see the top of her head. He moved around the bulky wood until he could see her again. She had buried her face in her hands. 

"Elissa?" he asked softly, bending and tugging gently at one of her arms until it fell away from her face. She let out a groan. 

"How did I get here?" she murmured. Cullen wasn't entirely sure if it was a question meant for him, but he gestured with his thumb over his back towards the exit.

"Through that door," he replied, deadpan.

She swatted at his arm playfully. "Not what I meant, _funny man_ ," she retorted. "I meant, _here_. Leading the Inquisition. People dying for me, _because_ of me. I was _dead_. And now I'm _here_. _Again_." She let out her breath in a drawn out sigh.

"I think the ale is fueling an existential crisis," Cullen replied. "You should really get some rest."

She slid further down until she was all but laying on the floor in front of his desk. There she let the back of her head rest atop her clasped hands. He stared at her incredulously. Did she really mean to rest _there_?

"Let's get you back to your room," he announced, standing. 

"You can't be seen escorting me back to my chambers, _people will talk_ ," she retorted in what Cullen guessed was her best impression of Dorian. It was terrible, though she wasn't wrong. But he also wasn't about to actually let her sleep on his office floor.

He exhaled slowly, mulling over his options. Finally he held out a hand. "Up you get," he said softly. She eyed his hand suspiciously.

"If you don't want to go stumbling through Skyhold, fine. But I'm not letting you sleep on the floor when there's a perfectly good bed just upstairs."

Her eyes widened a fraction. If her cheeks weren't already flushed from the ale Cullen guessed he would see pink spreading across them now, too.

"I can sleep in the barracks," he said quickly. Truth be told he would likely fall asleep at his desk, as he had many nights before, but he doubted she'd accept his offer if he admitted to that.

Her eyes slid over to the ladder leading up to his room and she let out a snort. "There's no chance I can climb that," she argued.

Cullen didn't respond, instead just gesturing with his extended hand once again. She took it hesitantly. In a smooth motion he pulled her up and right over his shoulder, earning a startled gasp out of Elissa. Her hands flew to his waist as he carried her towards the ladder.

As he climbed he tightened his grip on her thighs, his mind beginning to wander again. This certainly wasn't how he had imagined taking her to his bed for the first time. He would never take advantage of her in this state, but he couldn't stop himself from imagining what it might be like. Falling into bed with her, all smiles and sighs. Helping her out of her clothing... Hearing her screaming out his name for all of Skyhold to hear.

_Control yourself, Rutherford._

About halfway up he could feel her body shaking lightly and he paused, letting the distraction steer his mind to calmer waters. 

"Is something funny?" Cullen asked, trying to keep her steady. 

She let out a giggle and one had left his waist, presumably to her mouth since the giggles became muffled. 

"Are you quite alright?" he asked, now curious. 

"Oh everything is just _fine_ ," she said quickly, before unleashing another fit of laughter.

When he reached the top he sat her on the ledge before pulling himself up. Her eyes followed him closely, a smile never leaving her face.

"Thanks for that," she grinned. 

He nodded, still oblivious to what she found so amusing. He offered his hand again and pulled her upright. Once standing she moved towards the bed on unsteady feet before collapsing onto it, face first and limbs sprawled. 

"Maker," she exclaimed, her voice muffled against the bedding, "I have never felt anything this soft." She rolled herself over, stretching her arms out across the blankets. Her fingers trailed over the simple fabric, little sighs of delight escaping her lips.

The sight of her spread out across his bed was once again perverting Cullen's thoughts. He knelt, trying to focus instead on unlacing her boots. She leaned up on her elbows, watching him work.

"Cullen," she said quietly, drawing his attention. 

He tilted his head up, his fingers still busy with loosening her laces. Her hair was a unkempt, her features flushed, but she stared at him intently. _Maker's Breath_ , she was stunning. 

"I don't deserve you," she said softly. 

He wasn't prepared for that. He stared at her a moment before turning back to her laces. "You deserve far better than me," he responded as he tugged the boot off and moved onto the other.

She watched him in silence as he worked. Once her other foot was free she sat up fully, her shoulders pulled back. The mirth had left her expression as she took his chin in her hand, steering his face back to her gaze.

"You hold a very low opinion of yourself," she said with a frown. "I wish you could see yourself how I see you."

He opened his mouth to respond but couldn't find the words. How could he reply to _that_? His eyes dropped to her lips, so tantalizingly close...

_No. Not like this._

Instead he pulled back and placed her boots at the foot of the bed. If Elissa was disappointed she didn’t let it show. He moved to pull the blankets over her and she reluctantly settled down onto his pillow. He enveloped her in their warmth, careful to tuck her in tightly. With the holes in his ceiling it did get rather chilly.

"Get some sleep," he said quietly, "I'll be just down below if you need anything."

A hand darted out from the sheets and grasped his wrist before he could leave. 

"Would you stay?" Elissa asked quietly. 

He knew he shouldn't. That he should put as much distance between them as possible. But he couldn't think of a viable excuse so he just sat on the edge of the bed, perched like a predatory bird. The grip around his wrist softened, reaching down until it found his hand. Her long fingers intertwined with his and she let out a soft sigh.

"Tell me a story," she whispered, eyes closed and already on the verge of sleep. He watched her chest rise and fall with her breathing. 

Even as his mind screamed against it, he leaned forward brushing her hair back and pressed a kiss against her hairline. In reply Elissa let out a little sleepy noise of contentment, her fingers tightening around his. 

He let his free hand rest there, gently brushing her hair. Her face leaned into the contact and his chest tightened. 

"There was once a young boy in Honnleath" he began quietly, "Who dreamed of becoming a Templar..."


	59. What Happened Last Night

Elissa woke slowly with a throbbing agony in her skull she was entirely unfamiliar with. Her mouth felt more parched than it had ever been, even more so than her time spent in the sandy desert. She grasped to the side for her nightstand, searching blindly for her water pitcher.

It wasn't there. Curiously, neither was her nightstand. She cracked open a single eye. Light flooded her vision, catapulting her head into a whole new level of torment. _Maker preserve me_ , she half groaned, half sobbed to herself. This was a new kind of torture. She quickly buried her face beneath the blankets with another muffled groan.

She was dead. She had to be. Movement sounded from somewhere outside of her woolen cocoon and she risked a squinted peek out.

The room she was in was not hers. That much explained why her nightstand had vanished. Her boots were placed neatly at the side of the bed she was in, though she had no recollection of how they gotten there. Indeed, she didn't know how _she_ had gotten here. Wherever _here_ was.

Elissa sat up with care. She clenched her teeth firmly, as if the pressure she exerted on her jaw could keep her stomach from upending its contents across the bed. A chilly air blew gently across her face, the cool sensation welcome amidst the others she had awoken to. Her eyes lazily regarded the ceiling, its various holes the reason behind the breeze, as a dawning dread settled over her.

She was in Cullen's room. She was in _Cullen's_ _bed_. A quick hand flew against her body but confirmed she still wore her clothing. The commander was nowhere in sight. What in the Maker's name _happened last night_?

Wood creaked below and her eyes darted towards the ladder as a mop of golden curls rose into view. A pair of amber eyes followed. Then a lopsided smile that seemed both concerned and amused, in equal measure.

"Good morning," Cullen said softly, though the noise still sounded like a cacophony and she winced. Her reaction caused concern to win out over his expression and he closed the space between them quickly, offering her water from the pitcher he had carried up the ladder. She took an eager gulp, desperate to quench her thirst. She had expected water, so the mossy taste swishing around her mouth caught her off guard. She stared down into the liquid, thinking she smelled a faint whiff of Elfroot.

Cullen guessed at her confused brow. “It’s an old Rutherford family remedy for hangovers,” he explained. Her eyes flashed back up to his. Hangover. _Of course_.

Bits and pieces of last night flowed to the forefront of her mind. The contest. Oghren’s factually incorrect account of her tolerance for ale. Fragments of an excited discussion with Iron Bull. Finding Cullen’s office... it was certainly _not_ the first room she had stumbled through along the battlements. The spectacular view of his rear she had as he carried her up the ladder to his bed.

And of course, the reason she went to the tavern in the first place; The shouting match with Dorian the commander overheard.

Elissa paled. Cullen still just looked concerned for her, perhaps wondering whether or not she would yet vomit all over his bedding. She must have made a fool of herself, marching into his office in that state. But still he ensured she slept comfortably, and _alone_.

She opened her mouth to apologize. To thank him. To beg him to not think any less of her. But the only thing to escape her lips was a murmured guttural noise that sounded not unlike a wounded animal. It was followed by a threatening rumble from her stomach and she once again clamped her jaw shut tightly.

Cullen smiled softly and gestured back to the pitcher. "It'll help, I promise."

Elissa turned back to the swirling liquid, doubtful _anything_ could help her, but drank as much as her roiling belly would allow. Cullen nodded approvingly. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and seemed about to say something when the door to his office downstairs opened abruptly.

”Boss!” a familiar jovial voice bellowed. Elissa winced, nearly dropping the remaining contents of the pitcher. The commander frowned, leaving her side to glare down into his office at the newcomer.   
  
“What leads you to believe the Inquisitor is _here_?” Cullen responded curtly. His tone was irritated, though hushed, likely for Elissa’s benefit. Regardless, his words were met with raucous laughter as something heavy began to ascend the ladder.   
  
“You really think I’d let her wander off in that state without keeping an eye on her, Commander?” Iron Bull replied, his deep voice reverberating through her skull. Elissa put the pitcher down and crawled back under the covers. She pulled the blankets up against her ears to muffle their conversation and to try and physically stop her head from splitting into two ravaged halves. Her self-imposed isolation only lasted a moment until the covers were pulled back and the mountainous bulk of Iron Bull was grinning down at her. 

“Up you get, Boss. Plans to make. Venatori to kill,” he said enthusiastically. She swatted towards him until he backed away and she grasped the blankets, pulling them back over herself with a dismissive grunt. Once again they were pulled back, this time right off of her and out of reach. She glowered at the Qunari. Iron Bull’s smile never faltered, and he began carefully slipping one of her feet into her boot.

“Is this really necessary?” Cullen spoke up, “She only just returned from the Western Approach the day before yesterday. Certainly she has earned a short reprieve from Venatori slaying.”

”This was all her idea, actually. And it’s _brilliant_ ,” Iron Bull replied. He allowed her to continue getting dressed unassisted after she reluctantly accepted he wouldn’t leave her alone otherwise.

”What exactly—” her voice was raspy and sounded every bit as disgruntled as she felt, “—was my idea?” She left one of her boots only half laced. The strings had gotten tangled and she abandoned her attempt to sort them out. She turned her frown back on the Qunari, “And how are you so _chipper_? You drank more than the rest of the whole blasted tavern!”

Iron Bull thumped his fist against his chest and let out a triumphant holler. Elissa felt the noise like a physical spike in her head, clear through from one ear and out the other.

”That was a great night,” he cheered, “Really put some chest on your chest, am I right? _Maraas_ _Lok_!” He clasped Elissa on the shoulder and it took every ounce of willpower she had not to hurl right then and there.

“And you decided to undertake a joint mission with the Qun. Red is probably already waiting for us in the War Room to go over the details. Let’s move.” He glanced down at the pitcher and picked it up, sniffing the remaining liquid. He grunted with approval and pushed the pitcher back into her hands. Satisfied she was now up Iron Bull turned and grasped the ladder, sliding down with an impressive grace, considering his size.

Elissa just sat in stunned silence, her stomach queasy for a whole new reason now. Cullen sat next to her on the bed, careful not to jostle her, his amber eyes watching her closely. She took a swig from the pitcher before turning to face him.

”I’ve made some foolish decisions,” she said meekly.

“Oghren and Iron Bull can be very persuasive when it comes to roping people into that little drinking game of theirs. You weren’t the first, you certainly won’t be the last,” Cullen said softly.   
  
“I’m sorry you had to deal with me like that,” she continued, turning to talk into the pitcher in her hands instead of facing the commander, “I’m mortified.”

”We could just say it never happened. Leave it at that,” he offered graciously. Her eyes slid back towards him. His lip pulled into a reassuring half smile.

”At the rate I’m going, if you forget every foolish thing I do around you you’ll have gaps in your memory to compare with my own,” she murmured. She hadn’t meant the comment to be funny but his half smile bloomed into a full blown grin. 

Elissa’s breath caught. It wasn’t fair how handsome he was, especially when she was reasonably confident she resembled some sort of dishevelled bog creature.

Cullen didn’t seem to share her self-depreciating thoughts, though. He was looking at her like something precious. Like something beautiful. Like...

Her mind skidded to a halt as his body leaned towards hers. She was certain her was going to kiss her-

 _No, no no. Not like this_. Not when she might hurl—

His face shifted up at the last moment and he pressed his lips into her hairline, one of his hands reaching up to cradle her neck. His fingers were cool against her skin, soothing away a fraction of her otherwise debilitating hangover. She let out her held breath, relaxing into the embrace. 

”You still kind of smell like you bathed in the tavern stores,” he said softly into her hair. She scoffed half-heartedly but he made no movement to pull away. She stayed put, wishing fervently she could just enjoy this moment without fighting a nearly overwhelming urge to throw up.

”Cullen,” she said quietly.

 _Mmh?_ he sounded inquisitively into her hair.

“I don’t think I can get down your ladder,” she stated, her voice thick with impending misery.

Cullen let out a snort of laughter before he caught himself.

"Don't worry," he soothed, "I've got you."


	60. Making Plans

It probably would have been easier on Elissa's pride to just let herself fall down into Cullen's office. Faster, too. Instead she lowered herself rung by painstaking rung, her knuckles white and jaw clenched. Somehow she felt both freezing and sweltering, her mind threatening to burst with every beat of her heart. Cullen hovered just below her, ready in case she fell.

The great and mighty Inquisitor literally couldn't even climb down a ladder without being a potential fall risk, how pitiful. At least she did it without the commander having to carry her, which he had offered to do. _And_ without throwing up. That much she was grateful for.

The short walkway between Cullen's office and the tower provided Elissa with some much needed fresh air. Unfortunately the sun was rising unobstructed by clouds and shone down on her with blinding brilliance, careening her head back into tormented misery. 

She would _never_ drink again. How Oghren managed it almost constantly was unfathomable. Perhaps it was a Dwarven trait. Iron Bull's tolerance was easier to wrap her mind around; he just had the bulk of a house.

Thinking of the Qunari reminded her of the ill-considered plans she made last night. A joint mission with the Qun? She didn't know much about the foreign nation but the stories she had heard didn't paint them as the partnering sort. Had she abandoned her senses?

_Well, actually. Yes. Yes she had._

Elissa let out a careful breath, wary to keep the contents of her stomach where they belonged. She would get through this meeting with her advisors then barricade herself in her chambers until her head calmed down to something closer to a dull roar. 

Solas sat at his desk sipping on a steaming cup of tea, his sharp eyes pouring over an open text before him. As she and Cullen entered he tilted his head to each of them respectively before turning back to the book he was researching. No nobles dared venture into his part of the tower; the self-assured elven apostate made them uncomfortable. Indeed, he had that effect on a lot of people. She eyed the book he was reading until the words jumbled and made her head swim. Was it really only just yesterday she had reached Evelyn and set her mage companions to work researching her vague instructions?

She braced herself as she and Cullen approached the main hall, pulling her shoulders back and keeping the anguish from her face. As they entered the noble's eyes found her immediately, whispering amongst themselves. Their hushed voices bothered her all the more in this state. How such a quiet noise could be so _grating_ was a mystery, one she wasn't interested in lingering to find out. 

She crossed the room as fast as she dared. By the time Cullen closed the door of Josephine's office, which was mercifully empty, Elissa had to pause and brace herself against the frame. He watched her with open concern written across his face. 

"We can postpone this meeting," he offered, "There's no reason for you to push yourself—"

"It's fine," she replied quickly, sounding far less certain than she wished. With considerable effort she pushed herself off of the doorframe and turned towards the war room. "Let's get this over with."

Cullen looked ready to argue but voices sounded from the hall on the other side of the Ambassador's office, distracting them both.

"She did _what_?" a deep voice exclaimed. 

_Oh no._

Alistair.

She hesitated, but Cullen marched forward unfazed, a strange glint in his eye. Elissa followed, straining to listen.

"Drank half the tavern, she did," Oghren's gravelly voice replied. This was met with a low whistle.

"And you didn't send for me? Oghren, I thought we were friends. _Maker_. I'd have given away half the Bannorn to see that," Alistair laughed. 

Elissa winced. _Of course_ it would be common knowledge she had over indulged last night, the tavern hadn't exactly been empty. She should have paid closer attention to the gossiping nobles to know what was being discussed. Did they all know about the mission with the Qun? Did they know she spent the night in the commander's bed? Did _Alistair_? Cullen pulled open the door leading into the hallway and two pairs of eyes fell on her. 

Alistair had left his travelling clothes aside this morning, dressing instead in his more regal attire. After weeks on the road Elissa had grown more accustomed to him as warrior than king, but the latter watched her intently now. She felt her shoulders sag and added another item to her docket; get through her meeting _and_ survive the crippling embarrassment of Alistair witnessing the aftermath of her folly.

"Morning gentlemen," she said quickly as she strolled forward. Alistair took a couple long strides to catch up before he fell into pace next to her, slinging a causal arm across her shoulders. 

"And how are we this fine morning, Lady Cousland?" the king inquired with an incredibly devious grin.

She opened her mouth to reply _Like I'm dead_ but immediately caught herself, aware present company would likely not appreciate the humour. She snapped her jaw shut again, the motion jarring her skull and drawing out another wince. He looked down at her softly. Where Cullen's features had warred between concern and humour, Alistair managed them both with ease.

"You know, I've never seen you drink," he said quietly, ducking his tall frame low to reach her ear. Whether his hushed tone was for her benefit or just to keep his words from Cullen she wasn't entirely sure.

"Oh?" she managed, sliding her eyes towards him and relying on the king to keep her walking straight. His fingers drew little patterns along her shoulder, sending shivers down her arm.

"Between the darkspawn, the looming civil war, and new disasters that cropped up everywhere we went there just never seemed to be the time to drink." He smirked and gestured his chin towards Oghren, letting his voice rise, "Unless you're an unsavory drunken dwarf. Then there was _always_ time to drink." The dwarf only grunted in reply.

"So if you had come out to join us last night I wouldn't have been the only lightweight?" That would have been a sight. 

Alistair chuckled. "Not quite. I developed a taste for fine ales after—" he paused abruptly, his fingers gripping her shoulder. His face grew distant, the smile momentarily slipping before he caught himself, "—after I became king. Formal events are so much easier to endure with a good Fereldan ale." He grinned down at her, no hint of pain left on his face, but she had seen it.

Zevran had told her about Alistair's mental state following her death. Starting at him now she felt her heart grow heavy. The memory obviously still troubled him, even now, but he always seemed cheerful. She fought through her discomfort to smile back up at him.

"Any tips then, for surviving the morning after?" she asked. 

"Elfroot, actually. The stuff grows absolutely everywhere and if you mix some into a tea—"

"—Already taken care of," Cullen interjected, stepping forward to open the door into the War Room. He held it for the group to enter. The man was incredibly stone-faced but Elissa was beginning to be able to read his reserved features. He may as well have been staring daggers at the king.

"Oh, Cullen. I didn't see you there!" Alistair exclaimed sarcastically, "You really are everywhere aren't you?"

"I believe it's important to be seen by those that serve beneath me," the commander replied, "Not squirrled away out of sight."

Even Elissa caught the not-so-subtle jab at the king. Alistair stared at Cullen flatly as he entered, arm still tightly around Elissa. " _Touché_ , Commander."

"That Orlesian accent is commendable, your Majesty," Cullen retorted, letting the door go and striding across the room to take his place at the war table.

"You two need to learn to play nice," Elissa murmured under her breath, though apparently loud enough for Alistair to hear. He turned down to look at her, smirking.

"Trust me, my lady. That _was_ nice," Alistair replied quietly, looking back up and frowning slightly at the commander across the room. He relinquished his hold on her shoulder and guided her towards the table, his hand slipping down until it was pressed gently against her lower back. It would have been a blush-inducing bit of contact had Elissa not been preoccupied with trying to keep herself from hurling.

Iron Bull and Leliana were already present, chatting quietly with one another and gesturing to one of the maps spread out across the war table. Elissa approached the group, ignoring the way Cullen's gaze watched the king and instead focused on the maps. They were all pointing to the Storm Coast. 

"All right," Elissa said, trying to sound at least fractionally more functional than she felt, "Let's hear this plan."

"The Ben-Hassrath have been reading my reports. They don't like Corypheus or his Venatori, and they _really_ don't like red lyrium," Iron Bull scowled, obviously sharing the sentiment. "They have found a massive shipping operation of the foul stuff out on the coast and are sending in a Dreadknot to deal with it. _You_ had the brilliant idea of going to join them. To take out the operation _together_." Iron Bull was grinning from ear to ear now.

"Terrific," Elissa said, careful not to sound insincere. She was at least a little curious about the mysterious nation Iron Bull hailed from, and this didn't seem like a terribly complex mission. And the thought of feeling the rain on her face again lifted her spirits. It never rained in the Frostbacks and the Western Approach hadn't seen rain in millenia.

"We leave within the week," the towering Qunari continued, "Just as soon as I receive word back from the Ben-Hassrath."

"I'll leave the details up to my trusted advisors then," Elissa said, eager to take this chance to flee back to her chambers. They didn't need her to plan out travel arrangements.

Iron Bull only laughed knowingly, nodded and turned to talk with Leliana once more. Elissa retreated alone from the war room. Cullen and Alistair watched her go, conflicted. Both likely wanted to chivalrously escort her back to her quarters but they were required to remain. She could at least manage this bit on her own, and let them squabble out of her earshot. When footsteps approached she was a little surprised to see Oghren had followed her out.

"Not going to stay and plan?" she asked quietly, hoping he would match her noise level and spare her sensitive ears.

Oghren shook his head. "I won't be going. Iron Bull seems like a decent enough fella but I've spent enough time around Qunari to know he's an anomaly. I'm not overly keen to meet any more of those stoic motherless giants."

"I thought they mostly kept to themselves. You know other Qunari?"

"As a matter of fact I do," he replied gruffly, "Or _did_ , it's been a while." The dwarf slid his eyes towards Elissa.

"And so did you."


	61. Sparring

Cullen found himself with an unusual gap of free time. The morning missives hadn't been delivered yet and Dagna wasn't due to report regarding the trebuchet designs for Adamant until later this afternoon. Unable to just sit and wait Cullen made his way down into the valley to visit the sprawling military encampment.

He once spent his mornings training the recruits. Things had changed. As the Inquisition had grown he had less time for the task. He had been forced to delegate to his subordinates, though he still tried to get out whenever he could.

The hour was still early the soldiers had already begun their morning practice. Their breaths came out in little misty clouds with the night's chill still heavy in the air. It would be another hour at least before the sun climbed high enough to bathe the valley floor in its warmth.

Cullen joined in to lead the drills, correcting stances and modelling the correct footwork as he made his way through the lines. It felt good to be actually _doing_ something instead of buried beneath a mountain of paperwork.

"You have a shield," he reminded a novice, "Block with it—"

"—If that man were your enemy, you'd be dead," chided in a deep voice from behind him.

Cullen nodded with approval to the recruit as they brought up their shield against their sparring partner before he turned to face the owner of the voice.

The King of Ferelden stood tall and proud amidst the other soldiers. He had forgone the crown and wore a casual tunic and training leathers, blending in easily with the other recruits. Cullen tilted his head to him in acknowledgement though he refrained from greeting him with his title: the man was clearly trying to not be noticed.

"Your men regard you with a deep respect," Alistair said conversationally, "Even the raw recruits. That's no easy feat."

"They are highly motivated and eager to learn," Cullen replied before glancing back to supervise the training. "You're rather cordial this morning," he noted, pointedly not looking at the king and readying himself for a verbal spar. Most of the Inquisition seemed charmed by the king, downright titillated he had come personally to help their cause. Cullen wasn't so quick to warm to the man who was once engaged to the woman he felt so strongly for.

Alistair just shrugged. "Elissa suggested we _play nice,_ " was his only reply. Cullen felt his lip begin to tug into a small smile thinking of Elissa chastising the man but it fell flat as the king turned to look at him again.

"So, the Storm Coast..." Cullen began, oddly compelled to fill the silence between them.

"Aye," Alistair replied with a sigh. Cullen raised a brow at him, confused by his apparent reluctance. The king was to join the Inquisitor on the joint excursion with the Qun, much to Cullen's chagrin. 

"The rain never lets up along the coast," the king replied sullenly, as if it were explanation enough. As far as Cullen was concerned it certainly was, though he knew Elissa would be excited. Odd that Alistair didn't share her enthusiasm. 

"At least the Inquistor will enjoy herself," Cullen continued. Alistair let out a peal of laughter, only composing himself when it became clear Cullen wasn't being sarcastic. 

"Elissa? _Elissa Cousland_? You can't be serious," he exclaimed.

Cullen frowned. "She was downright jubilant to and from Highever, I assure you. I've never seen anything like it."

"I travelled with her for over a year and I can tell you drunken sailors have cleaner language than what fell from that woman's lips during even a mild summer sprinkling. She _hates_ the rain," Alistair continued, incredulously. 

"I'm surprised she never dismounted to _dance_ in it. You'd think it was the first time she was experiencing a downpour," Cullen replied. 

Alistair made a thoughtful noise, though it seemed clear he didn't believe Cullen's story. Cullen wasn't interested in trying to change his mind; he'd find out soon enough. _Too soon_ , really. They were due to depart within the week. The commander was already lamenting Elissa's absence. 

He moved towards another set of recruits to correct their footwork, modelling the position required to effectively break through a defensive stance. The soldier held up his sword though his balance was hopelessly off. Alistair walked around to his other side and fell into an easy attack stance, explaining to the young man how to hold his weight to stay light on his feet but still grounded against an unexpected lunge. The recruit tried to follow all the directions thrown at him but still faltered. 

"Commander," Alistair said as he motioned towards Cullen, "Perhaps a demonstration would be helpful."

Cullen eyed the king with open suspicion. A demonstration certainly would help though Alistair's suggestion seemed almost practiced. Had this been the man's intention all along? To find some excuse to spar with him? Cullen had to admit he had been curious about the man's ability on the battlefield as well.

He nodded after a moment and walked towards a nearby rack and collected a shield. Alistair did the same, though they both already wore a blade on their hips.

Cullen motioned for the recruit to observe as they moved to a nearby sparring ring. The commander slipped into a defensive stance, his shield ready and weapon drawn. 

He had been expecting a slow attack to model for the recruits but Alistair moved like lightning. One moment he was drawing his weapon and in the same motion he lunged, his sword singing as the blade ripped through the air. In the span of a single heartbeat something became immediately clear to Cullen.

_This obviously had nothing to do with training._

Cullen reflexively leveled his shield against the attack and the clash of steel on steel echoed even over the sounds of mock battle around them.

The king brought his shield forward and slammed it against Cullen's with enough power behind it to cause the commander to slide backwards in the loose earth. Cullen retaliated with a slash of his blade and Alistair retreated from its reach. Cullen cursed under his breath and went on the offensive. He unleashed a string of brutal attacks which Alistair parried or dodged before he swung out and Cullen ducked low to avoid the hit. As the commander came back up he shifted forwards and brought his elbow up to catch the king's jaw, causing the man to stumble back a few steps.

The monarch grinned even as he rubbed the back of a gloved hand against his jaw.

He lunged forward again and Cullen knocked the attack off course before he swung low. Alistair dropped to a crouch and rammed his shield into the ground to block to blow, several inches of the bulwark embedded in the earth like a heated knife dipping into butter. He ripped it loose again a moment later and brought his whole shield arm forward as if he meant to punch Cullen in the chest. The edge of the shield made contact with his chestplate first and the blow carried enough force behind it to momentarily knock the air from Cullen's lungs.

He stumbled back and sucked in a sharp breath, letting it out in a gruff laugh. 

Without giving him a moment to recover Alistair swung and Cullen parried the blow. Their blades met in the air and the screech of steel scraping against steel sounded as the match became less about skill and more about simple brute force.

Suddenly Cole materialized before them in mid leap, his knees high as he slid through the air with a feline grace. His dual daggers were drawn and aimed at the swords between Cullen and the king. Before anyone could react Cole shouted.

"Stop!"

With a surprising degree of strength the young man caught both of their swords with his daggers, knocking them from their grip and driving all four into the ground as he landed.

Cullen stared at the young rogue in surprise. He opened his mouth to explain that this was just a spar but Cole snapped his head to the commander and responded before he uttered a word.

"No. It's not. But that doesn't matter. You're hurting her. _All_ of her," he said in a harsh whisper, and Cullen got the distinct impression he was be scolded.

Cole turned to fix Alistair in a similar look of disapproval before his eyes turned up towards the castle stairs.

There Elissa stood. Her eyes were locked on the sparring ring and her expression unreadable. Her weight rested on a foot held back behind her, as if she was torn between wanting to walk away and being unable to _look_ away. Cullen's stomach dropped and he immediately regretted the spar, especially if it had caused her enough distress to draw out Cole. A glance towards Alistair showed he felt equally mollified.

The young man vanished again and reappeared at Elissa's side, whispering in her ear though her eyes remained locked on the two of them below. He clutched at her forearm and tugged her backwards. She wouldn't let herself be led away however, instead glancing down at Cole and smiling softly. Her mouth moved though Cullen was too far away to catch the words. She turned back towards the ring and began to walk towards them.

Alistair stooped to pick up their fallen swords, offering Cullen his hilt-first. He accepted it silently, slipping the steel back into its sheath as they waited for Elissa to approach. 

"I suppose we deserved that," Alistair admitted quietly.

Cullen only uttered a grunt of acknowledgement as he inspected the damage to the shields. The king _had_ started it, but Cullen had been just as interested in the fight. To start assigning blame without heaping a portion on himself would have been hypocrisy. He felt like a raw recruit once again, anxiously awaiting punishment for stepping out of line.

When Elissa arrived she strolled right past them both without a word, only stopping in front of the nearby weapon rack. She picked out two blades, testing their weight in her palms, before returning to stand before them. She looked at them, her face expectant.

Cullen and Alistair exchanged a look, both equally confused. 

" _Well?_ " she asked, glancing between them when neither man moved, "Are we sparring or not? Who's first?"

"Are you sure you're... quite well?" Cullen began, "Yesterday you were..." he trailed off, unsure how to put it delicately.

Elissa only rolled her eyes and turned to Alistair. He bowed low and motioned for her to enter the ring, winking at Cullen when her back was turned. Cullen glared back openly.

The king was different sparring with Elissa. With Cullen he had used force and speed to gain an advantage but with her he seemed to know exactly where to stand and how to keep himself out of her lethal reach. He spent his time on the defensive, easily dodging her barrages. At least twice Cullen could have sworn he began to raise his shield before she even moved to attack. After a few rounds Elissa narrowed her eyes suspiciously. 

"It's like you know what I'm going to do before I do," she noted. He grinned back at her, shrugging innocently, but offered no explanation. After a few more rounds with Alistair dodging efficiently, but practically lazily, Elissa began to frown. When he pretended to stifle a yawn as he parried a lunge she let out a frustrated groan. She hadn't landed a single hit.

All at once he shifted onto the offensive. Elissa quickly fell back, slipping away from his steel. His attacks never landed, though they never quite _missed_ either. It was as if the man was purposely aiming a handbredth off target simply to show he could get behind her defense. To unnerve her.

And it was _working_.

Elissa was growing increasingly frantic, unable to lodge an attack before Alistair had her dodging haphazardly out of the way. Cullen had never seen her like this. The king ended the round with a feigned pivot and a bizarre, though effective, twirl. He managed to bring himself chest to chest with Elissa, her blades uselessly pinned at her sides. She stared up at him, ignoring his triumphant grin, and tried to catch her breath. 

" _How?_ " she demanded. 

"You really think this is the first time we've sparred?" he asked, the answer clear. Cullen observed with growing disdain that he made no attempt to put any distance between them.

"That's _cheating_ ," she accused, likewise frozen in place. 

"It's an _advantage_. I'd never _cheat_ ," he scoffed back, still grinning.

She abruptly turned and stomped away, falling into a crouch, ready for another round. The king lunged and Elissa ducked low, her leg darting out like she meant to sweep his legs out from under him. He dodged easily, but was unprepared for the ice that froze the ground beneath him and he quickly found himself flat on his back.

Now Elissa was the one grinning and Cullen let out a cheer before he could stop himself. Her eyes found his and he cleared his throat, reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck. Alistair might know the old Elissa well, but he certainly didn't know _this_ new side of her. 

"I daresay _that_ was cheating," Alistair mused as he stood, carefully stepping away from the ice.

"No, your Majesty," Cullen replied, moving forward to take his place in the ring and readying his weapon.

"That's an _advantage."_


End file.
